


Still Waters

by InkInterrupted



Category: James Keziah Delaney - Fandom, Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, James Delaney Fan Fiction, Mysticism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Taboo F/X, Taboo FX Fan Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 174,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkInterrupted/pseuds/InkInterrupted
Summary: As his ship sails onward, James Keziah Delaney formulates his plan regarding Colonnade with his band of misfits.  In the quieter moments and as his ship sails West, he must continue to lift the veil regarding the fragile and troubled nature of his mind; with the help of Lorna Bow.   James must also confront the reality of his growing feelings towards his step mother.   He needs her, he wants her; facts he can no longer deny.   He wants more, and is afraid of more.   For who knows what lies beneath the cool and capable exterior, just waiting to rise from the depths once more?This is James full journey of healing.  Discovering himself, learning love, and if hope floats true: finding a home.Tell me one thing that is not just a matter of time?Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.





	1. Chapter 1

James pulled himself up from the galley below, his vision blurred and his steps unsteady. The tall black hat that had somehow survived both bullet and battle, was pitched low across his brow concealing the worried state of his eyes. It was a slow, limping saunter that brought him to the boat’s edge, where he stared out over the stretch of open sea.

Fuck. Fuck. She was shot.

The upper arm location of the shot was not necessarily life threatening. He had seen that her breathing was labored, and those brown doe eyes that raised to his own concerned gaze held more than a hint of pain. Not immediately life threatening, if they were not out on the ocean for weeks and with their only doctor gravely injured as well. James did not pause where Cholmondeley lay half mumbling and groaning. Godfrey was with him, his voice lowered in a hushed comfort. He had gone straight to where she lay at the end of the galley room, one side of her clothing soaked red with blood. No words were exchanged. Just a slight nod of his head. I see you. Now as the beautiful blue of sea and sky lay out stretched out before him like a benediction, he couldn’t erase the sight of Lorna laying there bleeding from his mind. He had not counted on this.

_You didn’t count on anything about her, did you?_

The set of his jaw was firmly clenched. A sign to others strolling about the upper deck, Do Not Approach. And no one did. They all had seen his painful but hurried steps towards the galley when he was told she was injured. His normally stoic gaze briefly registering astonishment, even pride, when they spoke of how she had stood fearless at the gangplank allowing the others to quickly scurry to safety. Taking on and returning fire, her red hair whipping about in the wind while she stood her ground: until she was down. Until the veil dropped once more and those were quickly replaced by fear and worry. Just as fast, returning to it’s usually brooding glare; but still he went to her. Though his touch was brief, it spoke volumes, as those in the room each held to their own silent vigils. Turning in the enclosed space, he quickly left as though he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Or perhaps show his own.

The gulls circled above, their cries carried across the ocean breeze, where his own too loud thoughts echoed.

_Why do you cross a river?_

_It was a good day to die on the open sea._

No. No it wasn’t. Not for her. Maybe for James; as he’d be willing from the start. Whether by assassin or flint struck explosion of gun powder. His tortured soul ready to pass over to whatever lay on the other side of this twisted life. He’d been bent and plaited by other hands for too long. It was only her that ever dared to show him another way. A possibility he’d never considered. Never earned. And yet it was there: a glimmer of hope perhaps, as he glanced upon the brass plate emblazoned with his ships name. The Good Hope. James was full aware he had very little left of anything in his heart to give to anyone, let alone the one that almost gave her all. The fact that there was enough of a wanting ache deep inside both surprised him, and left him rooted at the edge of action. But he saw now. All she had done. What she had given when it was most needed. His head bent to the rush of waves upon the bow as he pondered if he truly could take this unexpected gift and treat it with the care it deserved.

James slapped the edge of the boat and turned on his heel, his steps purposefully despite the pain still coursing through his own body.

One thing he swore for now: she would not die. Not while any breath lingered in his own body. And by whatever hell this world still might unfold upon him, he would do right by her. If she was strong enough to stand alone on a gangplank for the grasp of something better, something more – the hell if was not going to stand beside her and face whatever may come.

As he strode across the desk in search of Atticus, the truth he’d denied for many weeks finally hit him.

This woman was not only the same person as he, she was most completely his. All that remained was whether he had enough left in him to make it so.

~

The boat rocked gently in the night. A soothing lullaby of motion that eased the dull pain pulsing along her wounded arm. How long it had done so was lost to her as she slipped in and out of consciousness. The hours had blurred into simply one long moment of pain. Her brow was fevered, the heat radiating in the confined space, as sweat beads dotted her face and chest. Though her body lay shivering in the damp hull of the ship. The other young woman, April she thought was her name, checked on her often. She could hear the labored breathing of another, and the whispered tones of Godfrey as he comforted him. The chemist she thought, and her nose involuntary wrinkled. A slight chastising followed, for in truth he seemed gravelly injured and she certainly did not seek his death. Despite the contents of that letter.

She shifted uncomfortably in the night, bringing a sharp pain to her wound that caused a small gasp. In the glow of lamps, Robert’s face appeared above her small bunk.

“Are ya well Ms Delaney?” His worried eyes huge in the darkened space. It crossed her mind that he was so young to be living such an adventure. Perhaps that was why she had not hesitated to stand in the line of fire to make sure he was safely aboard. She could scarcely believe herself that she had stood there and fired upon the Kings’ men. Seeing the concern for her etched on his young face now, she knew she’d do it a thousand times again.

“I’m fine Robert. Just a stab of pain when I move is all.” She managed a feeble smile to assure the boy the truth of her words.

“Mr. Delaney told me to fetch him if you got worse – no matter the time he said, no matter at all.” His head bobbed to add weight to the important words he clearly felt came from an important man.

“No, there’s no need to be waking Mr Delaney now. I’m sure I’ll be fast asleep soon too. Why don’t you go ahead to your bed now?”

The boy shook his head vigorously, “Nah, someone is stay with you during the night, until you’re better. Mr. Delaney said so. It’s my turn now and I’ll not leave ya. When April returns, then I will go.”

Lorna nodded her head, inwardly pleased at the boys’ resolve to stand his post. She smiled at him and then lay back and closed her eyes. Just before sleep once again claimed her, she recalled the dark shadow of the man standing over her. A too familiar form in his long coat and tall hat pulled low in the shadowed space to barely conceal the pain and concern etched in his eyes. My how the silence in him could be a deafening roar. Even in his silence, she still heard his heart loud and clear. That stoic visage that belied his inner turmoil she knew he held in check, as he gazed down on her wounded body. The warmth of his touch even through the leather glove when the caress of his hand rested upon her shoulder. The soft brush of a thumb as it rubbed along her skin. A simple gesture. An over due acknowledgement. But still his silence cloaked him. Only a brief nod of his head as his eyes met her own pain filled gaze. And then he was gone.

~

The stove fire had died to all but embers, as James head hung low upon his chest. Seated in front of it’s dying warmth, his churning thoughts gave way to sleep, as his body slowly succumbed to both exhaustion and pain. As always, the dreams came. Images flashed while his body desperately sought to grasp the rest it needed. He tried to recall the weightlessness of floating in the water. Sought to allow his mind to empty of all but the warm caress of the liquid soothing his aching flesh. But the bodies were always there. And now one more was added. It seemed like there would never be an escape from the torment of his own mind. Even his rituals eased little these days. Just that never ending singing of the dead in the water.

_The dead don’t sing._

James head snapped up and he searched the room for that voice. The one that knew how to both call him back, and propel him forward. The one that saw him as he was when no one else would even look. Not even her. How had such darkness as he summoned such a light force? No. Not spells. No chants. Just as though from nothing, she had appeared. Not mocking, but showing the way when with baited breath he’d summoned the courage to ask. Knowing sleep would never come now, James got up from his cross legged perch, and grabbing a candle, left the Captains’ Cabin to wander his ship in the night.

The moon held fast in it’s lofty perch high above the sails. It cast the shadow of a seaman at the helm holding his post until his relief should arrive. The only sound was the gentle breeze in the sails and the lapping of the waves upon the boats’ sides. With a limping gait he crossed to a crate and perching on it’s edge, lit his pipe. The smoke circling up to twist around the tall mast before it too was lost to the night. Slowly his mind began to clear as he inhaled deeply; shaking the last clinging vestiges of those visions away. In the quiet of night, he paused to question once again the fragile nature of his mind. Casting back to the events of the past weeks since his return. The distractions that had plagued and threatened an end to his carefully organized plan. Was what he saw always real? Was it even helpful? In seemed to be in certain moments, and then others were just all confusing or horror; and more often a mixture of the two. This journey was ever fraught with more questions than answers and he realized now the fear that he would never find himself – never claw his way back to who he truly was, grew ever stronger. One hand reached up to trace the lines burned upon his back; reaching all the way back into his past. Into Africa. But the fragments of his mind of late were like the thread of a web; hard to break – yet so fragile as to be carried away on a fickle wind.

A noise suddenly carried through the night over the lonely boards of the ships deck. James strained his ears to catch the direction. Shit, was it even real? Tilting his head, once again came the soft high pitched cry – as though in pain. His eyes darted to the lower galley doorway, and in a moment’s breath James was on his feet and shuffling towards the darkened stairs that lead to where she lay calling to him. There was no doubt in his mind that her voice was real.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat to Lorna's life has James fighting his inner panic to save her -- for he must hurt her, in order to save her. Why did that always seem to be the way with him? And will he still see trust in her eyes when it's all over? All of all the things he had lost in this world, this was one thing he was not willing to let go.

Lorna didn’t so much regain consciousness, as sensed unbearable pain like fangs eating from within upon her skin hauling her up unwilling from the dark and quiet depths threatening to pull her under. Less pain-defiant than James, every jostle motion of the ship saw her stifling a cry at the searing pain. Yet the urge to get up was an unknown and overwhelming pulse. Struggling to raise herself with her good arm, she wished she could simply absorb the trauma, but it erupted in beads of sweat all over her body, until she was bathed in a feverish flush. Each time she was forced to use her injured arm to assist, the pain wracked through her body as though being shot again. Her body trembling as the shivering took over and her teeth chatted so loudly she thought they might all crack to pieces. She fought to hold her jaw firmly shut to avoid screaming out in pain again, causing her to bite down on her tongue. The iron taste of blood filling her mouth. It’s scent clung all around her; cloying in each dank corner. Her breath hissed over her teeth as she also bite back a curse, and she couldn’t be sure she had not called out either. With a final heave of effort, she fought to gain her feet, just as the sound of feet upon the galley steps sounded above. Raising red rimmed eyes to the dark shadow that gingerly descended the steps and proceeded towards her, while she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Reaching shaking hands to grab something to steady herself. The shadow became a face. A steely glare and grim countenance and she slowly retreated with unsteady steps. At the last moment, before the ground rushed up to meet, her name called as though from far away…. recognition dawns and his name slips from her trembling lips. She only knows the briefest touch of arms grasping her before the darkness closes in.

James caught Lorna’s collapsing body just before her head smashed upon the edge of the bunk. Lifting his burden easily, he lay her back upon the bed, his eyes searching for some unnoticed injury. Her body was drenched in sweat and shivered uncontrollably. Fever. Dammit, an infection. Amazed at how swift and rational his mind can be when necessity required it, he redirected the lamp light to inspect her gunshot wound closely. Fresh blood had soaked the bandage considerably and he frowned as he gently raised her arm for closer inspection.

The red trail marks leading from the wound stood out in the darkened galley. As though the poison trapped within lay punishing lashes upon the fair, tender skin. Immediately James heart sunk to his feet. Turning around he spied the boy Robert asleep on the far bench, and kicked his feet to rouse him. The boy awoke with a gasp and cast eyes wide with fear in his direction.

“Get Godfrey now! She’s gravely ill.”

Robert took one quick glance around him to see Lorna on the bed, white as a ghost. Her bright red hair in stark contrast about her pale face. With worry painted upon his young face, he darted out of the room in a flash. James turned back to Lorna’s side, listening to the shallow depths of her breathing. The pauses between each gasp so few he feared it stopped for several seconds. Once more his hand reached forth to graze her temple, where the red curls lay in dampened defeat. The heat of her flesh both a surprise and a fear that rocked him to his core. Quick steps at his back announce the return of Robert; with Godfrey minus his women’s dress and wig close behind. Good, he needs the military man now if he still existed someone inside this half-man.

“Help me get her up, we’ll take her to my cabin.” James lifted Lorna gently up against his strong chest, while Godfrey stood still with a questioning look.

“Should we move her so soon James?”

James motioned to Robert to shine the light on Lorna’s injured arm. The red lines even more pronounced under the harsh light; a fresh trickle of blood oozed down the length of her slender arm. Understanding dawns’ in Godfrey’s eyes and he immediately moved to help James with his burden. Robert ascended the steps ahead holding the lamp high to light their way. 

Once in his cabin, James gathered all the necessary items, while Godfrey stoked the stove fire once more and placed the long tip of a blade within the flames. Robert stood silent guard over Lorna’s still form after refusing to be removed from the room. Not even James harsh bark or grunted growl had an effect upon the boy. His young face already bearing witness to the love within his heart for the young woman who had risked so much for their safety. He would not leave her now even if Mr. Delaney threatened to cut off his own arm.

Armed with clean, hot soaked towels, whiskey and his own sharp blade which he poured a large amount of the alcohol over, James approached where Lorna lay silent on his bed. As he reached her side, he noted that her eyelids were fluttering. Godfrey appeared at his side, and gingerly climbed upon the bed, positioned over her prone form. His large hands pressed down upon the slender shoulders, and at his touch Lorna’s eyes flew open. Though recognition dawned, her first instinct was to fight him. When James lay his hand upon her shoulder, she twisted to meet his gaze, a small cry of pain which caused the men to wince as though it tore through their own bodies. Her eyes registered the blade in his hand and grew wide with fear, but her gaze on James never faltered. Only the sound of her shaky inhale filled the room. 

“The bleeding won’t stop and it’ become infected.., we have to stop the spread.” His voice broke in the middle and she saw both his own fear mixed with resolve. She nodded silently in response. Though she presented the same brave face at Godfrey, some wild instinct rose to resist his weight as it pressed down upon her. Lips pressed into a thin, tight line and her eyes squeezed tightly closed. A breath briefly held, as the clanging of ropes against the mast above kept time, and then released in a slow calming measure. As James positioned the lamp that Robert held, he wished this a pain he could swallow as he had so many others. How many times had he kicked back to the surface? The blade felt heavy in his hand as he bent to the task, one last lingering look exchanged between them. 

The cut was quick; the pain acute and brief. The release of poison almost a welcome relief. A steaming cloth felt soothing after the cut and draining, and Lorna loosed a heavy sigh, until James lay a hand across her fevered brow, and sought her gaze once more. His sharp intake of breath a sign the worst was still to come. Turning away, his tread heavy and purposeful, he crossed the room to the pot bellied stove on the far outside wall. When he returned, the light glow of the hot blade he held sliced through her last ounce of courage, and her body bucked against Godfrey’s restraint. His weight and leverage were too much and she turned eyes wild with fear back to James. Hesitation dripped from every pore and his own gaze held pain as he breathed in her fear like a scent in the room. 

“I’m sorry.”

His whispered words echoed in the small cabin. Words so small but so large in this moment, as though they carried a multitude of other moments behind them. James could not remember the last time he uttered those words to another human being. Though he was sure he had a host of sins to be sorry for. Wrongs so much larger than then this one deed. Except, this was her he was going to hurt. Though it must be done, the turning of his stomach was almost enough to halt his hand. Then came the light touch of her injured hand twisting in the fabric of his other arm pulling him closer. Her gaze softened, and there he found the hope this intended hurt would be forgiven. Leaning down he nodded once to her and then to Godfrey.

“Deep breath.”

Holding her arm gently, he pressed the hot edge of his blade against her wound and counted several one to two second bursts to sear the damaged flesh. It was the second touch of the knife when Lorna let loose one terrible scream of pain that broke each man’s heart in the room, and then lay still and quiet. Her head rolled to one side upon the lone pillow. Robert picked up one red curl and held it gently within his palm. 

His brutal task completed, James tossed the knife carelessly to the floor. Beads of sweat dotted his own face as he concentrated on applying a balm to her injury and wrapped it in clean bandages. At least the bleeding had now stopped, time would tell concerning the infection. Godfrey carefully climbed off her prone form, tears pooling in his gentle eyes. Heaving a great sigh he placed a hand on James shoulder, “Shall I stay with her?”

Taking a seat on a small chair he had dragged beside the bed, his head hung low to almost grazing his knees, James only shook his head. Godfrey motioned to Robert, who via sheer exhaustion lacked the will to fight seeking his own bed any longer. The door shut quietly as they left the cabin.

At the click of the door, James raised his head to watch her unconscious form upon his bed. Her breathing had steadied and the red marks were already receding. Leaning forward he lay palm to her forehead and found it considerably cooler than before. Of their own accord his fingers brushed the dampened tendrils from her brow, one defiant tendril sought it’s hold on his finger. Briefly her eyes flickered open. The laugh line stark upon her palely drawn face and the thought came unbidden he could trail his finger down its length. As though she read his mind, one corner of her mouth lifted in that familiar crooked smile which no one would ever know the depths of which he loved. How it stirred something long ignored within him. His palm still lay upon her temple, a subtle request to linger awhile. An unspoken plea that time be a granted wish to sort out the unspoken words caught and bound within him. Too soon her smile faltered, while her eyelashes dropped to lay upon rose tinted cheeks. Still it was enough to know the truth revealed in her own eyes - she was still his. Maybe even more now, as this dance of trust they had slowly weaved drew it’s circle ever tighter. 

He moved his hand to clasp her own lightly in his palm. Gently rubbing his fingers along her own smaller ones. This one thing he allowed himself. For no one, not even she, would ever know. Throughout the night he remained, while a mournful moon crossed the night sky and he fitfully dozed, her hand clasped within his own. And no dreams came.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitfully they both dozed, surrounded by the musty, salty scent of the ship and sea; a curious organic mixture of ocean life and human trade. Above played a symphony of the creaking polished wood settling in the cooler night temperatures, and the clanging of the halyards interspersed with the cries of night birds. Coming to the edge of wakefulness Lorna thought how sharp one’s senses become in the dark. Not the least of which is the gentle pressure felt within her palm. The warmth flowing from one body to another, and maybe even a bit of his strength too. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he was close, his aura a measurable entity that coiled about her. Pulling her from uneasy slumber though her body yearned to remain within its’ comforting abyss.

Turning her head she could see the outline of James seated upon the chair. His chin resting upon his chest, one hand casually resting upon a knee, while the other clasped her own. She smiled softly in the dark; this little secret she would never speak of, but was still enough. The tone of his breathing was steady, his face for once in calm repose. It softened his normally brooding features and in this moment she could see a glimpse of the young man who must have dreamed his big dreams, before the reality of a cruel and greedy world tore them asunder. Studying him in the semi dark and silent cabin, the light pressure of his fingers entwined with her own, she was sure that young heart still beat beneath the dangerous man facade. It was just a matter of calling it forth. Reaching into the past to grasp what he had forgotten; or what had been lost. Weary from the few moments of wakefulness, she closed her eyes once more; the rhythmic cadence of ropes, sea waves and James steady, even breath a soothing lull to her own injured spirit.

~

The clomping brush of heavy boots above brought James upright in his chair. The first thing he noticed was the awful sharp stab of pain down the back of his neck. The second thing he noticed was that he must unclasp his hand from Lorna’s to massage the gnawing ache effectively. Absently he rubbed the offending spot while considering the still sleeping form before him. Her cheeks blossomed with a hint of colour, and her body was no longer feverishly bathed in sweat. When he leaned closer the soft sounds of her breathing reached him above the morning clatter of busy labour from the ships deck above. One hand lightly rested upon her forehead and he found the smooth translucent skin cool to his touch. A sigh of relief escaped him and she shifted slightly upon his cot, but her eyes remained closed. Carefully he lifted her injured arm and inspected the fresh bandages. No fresh blood marked the stark white linen, nor red tails appeared from beneath. Another sigh, softer this time. He would probably need to change the bandages later, but for now she seemed to be on the way to recovery. 

Gingerly he rose from the chair and with a stiff, bow legged shuffle proceeded towards the door. As he stepped through into the passage, he turned for a last look to assure himself she still slept. Turning away, he continued down the passageway in search of anyone who could make a proper pot of tea on this vessel. His hand still rubbed the ache at his neck, and with a subtle smile before he climbed the galley stairs, he noted the warmth from her hand still lingered. His mind called back to a time he had stood and lamented the lack of warmth in a Delaney home, and he momentarily paused to ponder this fact. Acceptance came slowly and not without some small inward battle, but he allowed its truth to wash over him standing in the sun filtered beams of the lower galley. Illumination. The brooding grimace was firmly in place by the time he reached the deck, and nodding a greeting towards Atticus who strode quickly towards him. 

The morning was spent strolling about the ship with Atticus as unofficial First Mate checking supplies, taking inventory, speaking with his crew; and a host of other Captain like duties that reminded him of his previous years of service in the Company. His mind had been so preoccupied with Lorna’s injury their first two nights at sea, he barely had time to examine his thoughts regarding his recent successful vengeance. Did the victory seem hollow now that is was done? There seemed to be no lessening to the weight of guilt that was his constant companion. Although he was immensely pleased to have Justice delivered for George Chichester, one of the noblest men he ever had the honour of meeting. Of course the man would not have guessed as such based on their meeting at the Delaney home when James had been so very… well, James like. He filed away his thoughts for better circumspection when he was not in the company of so many. Besides his original thought from the start of the day was the most pressing, for indeed it did appear not a single soul on this ship could make a decent cup of tea. It was the first time he felt the pang of missing Brace since he’d left a broken man dockside. Although he was fairly certain banning a fragile old Christian minded man, with a penchant of playing God with arsenic from a ship of the damned, was the correct call. But he had swigged far too much Delaney Company brandy of late and his mind needed a good cleansing to prepare for this new task ahead. A calm head and cool temper was definitely par for the course when sailing atop many barrels of gunpowder.

As he shuffled across the creaking damp boards of his ship, Godfrey caught him mid stride as he exited the lower galley where Cholmondeley still lay slipping in and out of consciousness.

James face was grim; the ship needed a doctor for its long voyage to America. He raised questioning eyes to the man, now wearing the regular dress of a gentleman. 

“How fares our chemist this morn?”

Godfrey’s face bore evidence of his concern, as he shook his head slowly and offered a helpless shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know James, he rambles incoherently when he’s awake and moans pitifully when it seems his asleep.” He leaned closer to James, “he’s missing an ear dammit James and I cannot even tell in the dark how much of his body is burned.” 

James turned away to face the sea, watching the gulls which ever followed the vessel. The sails were stretched full with a good wind at their back today and if that fortune continued, they might just arrive at the Azores in time to seek medical aid for the man. Although depending on how long this Colonnade business took, the ship might have to set sail once more without Cholmondeley aboard.

He leaned in close, “Godders, just keep him alive. We need a doctor to sail West.”

Godfrey, encouraging the intimacy of the conversation, leaned into James closer, “How was Mrs. Delaney this morning? Any improvement? I can check on…”

James raised a hand to halt him in word and purpose, “Mrs. Delaney is not your concern, but I will tell you that she is recovering and resting well in my cabin.” His keen stare challenging the man to mention the intimacy this implied, as he poked a finger upon his chest, “your concern is our doctor friend. Keep him alive Godders.” And with that he strode away.

“And have the boy bring tea to my cabin.” 

Standing alone on the lilting deck, his legs braced wide, Godfrey watched the width of his retreating back as it descended the steps into the galley leading to his cabin. Despite an effort to remain aloof, disconnected, even mightily pissed concerning the arrogance of the man, there was no denying how long a feeling could linger …. and also fester. Feeling the weight of his own weakness, he turned to go in search of Robert. Another Delaney question he had pondered that was just as unlikely to ever be answered.

Ensconced in his cabin once more, gazing upon the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the way her hair had escaped its tight confines to fall softly about her sleeping visage; James mind pondered another question once posed of another.

_You think she’s beautiful?_

>

Taking his seat beside her once more, the thought was not lost on him that he often seemed to be posing questions of her, or about her, to which he already knew the answer. Resting his head against the hard back of the wooden chair, his eyes watched her closely, until the lulling pitch of the ship and the soft rhythm of her breathing playing upon his exhaustion like Braham’s, flung him backwards into sleep.

Thus was the scene young Robert happened upon when his soft knock went unanswered. He’d pushed the portal open slightly with a crooked knee, peeking around its edge to check the inner room, while balancing the tea tray. Crossing with silent tread to lay it upon the small dining table in one corner of the room. He only briefly lingered to watch the two as they both slept. Lorna’s pale skin aglow in the small amount of sun which filtered through the lone window of the cabin, while beside her in his dark clothing James rested within the shadows. A stark contrast in his young mind. Still, he noted the way James hand rested upon the bed’s edge, just inches from her own, as though in sleep they reached towards one another. Seeking in dreams what they could not find in wakefulness. He saw the normally tense lines of his face relaxed and calm when he was near her. Robert knew that feeling too, and it had made it easy to love her. But that was always the easy part, wasn’t it? It was easy to love goodness when it shone upon you. The hard part was accepting that love for yourself. Standing before them, something stirred in his young heart. He wasn’t quite sure, having never felt it before, but he thought it might be hope. Although, he couldn’t just yet figure out why it hurt? Just a little.

Indeed, the combined weight of all the questions most of its passengers held locked deep inside, was in danger of overcrowding the baggage constraints upon this little ship of damaged and damned souls. Searching hearts and gunpowder; a volatile mix to be sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words finally spoken. A bond forged.

Moonlight flooded the small cabin, casting it’s glow upon the sleeping forms. Suspended like flotsam with arms flung out wide, and senses dulled by the lapping of water over his ears; the eternal push and pull of the ocean lulling James in this sleepy void. The curling waves a gentle caress. To be but one drop within its vastness and swept away from time and chance. This was the place where hope lifted its head from the murky depths, weeping for the love to set it free. Before it too was tossed and sunk, like so much jetsam; unable to bear the weight of its’ grief. The temptation to drink the foam of this great big sea, and sink down like that distant horizon, a tidal pull of its own. Where your own salty tears joined the flow of eternal tides and crashed upon the farthest shore. Where men were to tempted to feel the cool lips of an Asrai kiss…

… then the darkness envelopes. The cold hands like claws that grasp his head and pull him under. Down, down to the cooler depths where a mother’s love, seeing a world so full of dread, also sunk to it’s grief. How it called to him still, to join her in this watery grave. And he knows. He knows if he remains in the dream, his lungs will inhale; whether it’s briny water - or life giving air. A choice he must make. The pressure was building within his chest, as he struggled beneath the surface; his heart hammering like a bird within its cage. 

_I hate to see things caged up._

Save it. Set it free. 

Save me.

With a last desperate kick, his hands shoving the apparition away, James reached up towards the halo of light – there’s a promise awaiting above. In one click, his eyes flew open.

To find Lorna’s own concerned gaze upon him.  
~  
James eyes appeared trained on some invisible spectre. Eyelids too heavy and a fraction too slow in blinking. The lines of his face lay as though caught in time – some horrible event of the past – his expression vacant as though his brain suffered a short circuit and he was struggling to compute. She moved into his line of vision; his head tilted and eyes slid into focus. The hardness gave way to softness as he held her gaze, and she instinctively read the emotions he had hidden behind the walls of his mind. A strong fortress – but she saw that his eyes sold him out every time. Sometimes they flashed fire and were careless as hell. All that remained now was a smoldering ember, a warmth that radiated out to her; calling. She always knew he held pain inside, but when she saw it visible on his face; she wished it would go away. Though he had every right to it. Like an unwanted gift, it had arrived and held them hostage in this moment, their gazes locked in a breathless waiting game. Both moved; but neither moving. But the eyes… they never lie. Like a flicker it passed between them: you don’t have to hide the thoughts in your head from me.

His pained whisper broke the silence, “I was the one meant to drown.” His eyes shifted up, brimming at the edges, “my mother earned her prison cell because she tried to drown me as a babe.” Slowly his gaze drifted back to her, daring her into the space. Inviting her pity, even contempt; but deep down seeking that warmth. “I was supposed to drown in the river. And maybe you would hear me sing.”

Lorna saw the path laid out before he did. How it was lined with guilt and paved with regret. She refused to walk it. To watch him drift away in faded sepia tones of atonement; when he could walk – live, in full colour. James leaned back in his chair scratching his head as though he could scrub what haunted him away. Struggling with her good arm Lorna lifted herself to sit up on the bed, cradling the wounded arm across her stomach.

“If that were true, you would have never learned to swim.” James turned red tinged eyes towards her, though this time her gaze rested upon the worn wooden planks. How did she always find the right words? “You struggled, in your dream… you fought whatever it was dragging you down, and kicked your way back to the surface. As you always will.”

Surprise at hearing his own thoughts voiced by her, he studied her bent figure. The way her hair lay in twisted coils down her back, or hung to graze the soft corners of her cheek. The delicate sweep of an eyebrow all that was visible as she stared holes into the floor. Her body held tight as though shrinking away from whatever her own troubling thoughts might be. Set back by her own mood, his gaze shifted to the floor and saw the wet drops as they fell in an offbeat staccato. He had been hoping for kindness, but now shaken by her own pain, he waited with heart in his mouth and willed the spinning of his head to cease. Her voice came soft and low, punctuated by solemn pauses.

“I shot a man… I did… and though I didn’t like it…. I took aim once more. I didn’t like it, but I did it. Robert…” her voice broke and a palm swiped across the wet cheeks she lifted to him, “and the others. I’d do it again. For him. Them.” A lingering pause as brimming eyes raised to his own, “You.” She let that one hang between them a moment. “I’m one of your damned now.”

For maybe the first time, he saw her. The pain in her eyes. And if were not for the many scars he carried, he might have been able to reach out to her. Instead he joined her in that pain. To sit awhile and know the torture one another must bear. As always, her voice was the bridge between their silent spaces.

“You said I should have left.”

Her tears flowed unchecked, her gaze unwavering. Daring him to answer. With bated breath he leaned forward in his chair.

“And do you wish to leave?”

Lorna pressed closer into his space, willed him to meet her halfway.

“Would that be good?”

The force of her words hit with a blow akin to breaking every invisible scar anew. His own words stretched raw and flung back to him; flaying the skin he’d lain over his pain. The truth already revealed in his eyes before his mouth ever lay claim to it. He felt bruised, scared and more connected to her than anyone ever before. Her pain, the fear, but also her tenacity. The courage she displayed in owning her choices. Her goodness still shone like a beacon even in this dark space. A light too bright to be damned. She was a fighter and she would not sink. But this free-fall was tenuous. In this moment, for her, he would find his feet and drag her kicking to the surface alongside him. 

And she would stay because of her strength, not a weakness.

James reached out a hand, touching her wet cheek; trailing a finger down the trail of tears. All her breath sucked in, reluctant now that this moment was unfolding. His hand moved behind her head holding it gently while his eyes spoke the truth kept hidden in his heart. A thumb remained to lightly rub its rough edge along the dampened cheek. Lorna reached up her own hand to cover his own, their fingers clasping amidst the tangle of curls; hearts interlocking as the bond was forged. Taking root in that part of his soul, beautiful and raw, which he had denied existed; but as real as the blood pounding in her veins.

Haunted memories of choices made and drifting hope, lay across from one another; forever bound together like opposite sides of the same coin. While these two lingered with fire-glow casting shadows around them, both trapped by the confusion they carried. Yet still reaching toward the other. For when even the smallest warmth finds its way into your heart, barriers begin to crumble. James always knew this journey would be hard. Along the way he was making the best road map that he could. He used to think he’d be lost without this familiar pain, the scars healed but stretching and pulling the skin every now and then. Comforting reminders when he felt lost – road signs showing the way. He knew now what an unreliable road map he’d drawn. The truth that she taught him was that the pain must rise – but with her, there would also be a soft place to fall. Her voice brought him back from his own silent thoughts, though his eyes had never left her own.

“Once you told Brace to see me safely home. Did you say … _home?”_

The softness of her voice and the open yearning within her eyes broke him. His own tears fell hot upon the hand resting upon his leg, but it moved now to pull her close, so that his forehead pressed upon her temple. He wished he had the words to give her, beyond the simple yes he breathed upon her brow. Her hand reached up to lay it’s palm upon his cheek and hold him to her. The urge to pull her into his arms was surprising and strong, yet they teetered on the precipice of letting go. It was enough. For now. 

There’s something about that moment when you realize you are not the only one to suffer. That two souls could ache, but also protect the other. Yes this journey was hard, and this life often a hell for his soul, but here was also a safe harbor. An anchor they could cling to, and they would not sink. There would be a future. 

And somehow, someway; he would find the means to bring them both home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James acknowledges more than a few things about Mrs. Lorna Bow Delaney. They're rather impossible to ignore when she's this close to him.

As the fire died down the shadows gradually diminished and a chill began to settle upon the small cabin. Shivers ran down the pale length of Lorna’s arms, and she pulled them close about herself; gingerly cradling the injured one against her frame. Noticing her discomfort James pulled away, his one hand gently gliding from her neck, to shoulder, down to her elbow which he lifted to examine the bandages. They were still clean, but one edge had come loose and began to unravel.

“I should fix that.”

Her eyes had followed his, and picking absently at the frayed ends, she nodded her head before meeting his gaze one more. A crooked smile offered, but more surprising when it was returned. Hesitant and fleeting, as though it was not quite comfortable on his face. These deep emotions felt and seen as though a door opening. 

“I’ll build a fire and then tend to it.”

James crossed over to the stove and soon the flames sprang to life, the warmth spreading it’s fingers to the chilled corners. He poured some water from the kettle that sat atop the stove into a bowl, and grabbing the medical bag, crossed back to where she sat silently watching his every move. It only took a few minutes to cleanse the wound, apply more balm, and re-wrap it all again; his hands gentle with each task. Her gaze remained focused somewhere around the centre of his chest, but James remained watching her closely. Noting her eyes becoming heavy and often closing briefly. The slight sway of her body as he held her steady. When he released her arm tenderly to her side, she inhaled deeply and straightened her back to meet his gaze once more, her eyes suddenly alert and probing.

“And what of your own?” James grunted a dismissal and made to rise, but she lay a hand upon one side, and his sharp intake of breath confirmed her suspicions. “James, how bad is it? You’ve got to take care of it, or at least allow someone else to do it.” Another grunt expelled, but he couldn’t hide the flicker of pain as he sat back in the chair. 

Their eyes held for a moment, and taking a deep breath Lorna reached a hand forth to the edge of his shirt, and gently drew it up to reveal his bandaged side. Bandages that were rust brown with dried blood and dirt, the area around the edges an angry shade of red. She gasped and cast him a look of equal concern and reproach. James stared back looking somewhat contrite, but still impatiently pushed her hand away.

“The stitches have held, and it is healing well.”

“Will you at least let me help you change these bandages? Before they cause infection.”

She noticed his jaw had tensed. The hardness settling again in the lines of his face, eyes refusing to meet her gaze and she puzzled at the change. Instinct told her the way forward, yet she still proceeded with caution.

“James, I know what happens to men accused of treason and locked in the tower. I know the torture…” 

James harsh tone interrupted, “No… you don’t.”

At the slight tilt of her head and raised eyebrow in response, he jolted in his chair as he recalled that yes – she had gone to prison too. And that he had knowingly allowed her to be taken. He still didn’t know the full extent of what she had endured; her own stoicism concerning the events rivaling his own. The sight of deep bruises upon her arms when they had attended the Countess Musgrove’s Ball flashed in his mind. How they had stood out starkly against the pale of her skin when he glanced to where she stood warming herself by the fire after arriving at the duel. While he doubted she had to endure what he had survived; the threat of rape he was certain was no less terrifying for a woman. And he’d been careless about that. About her. He could see in the determined set of her own jaw and the way her stare remained fixed on him, he wasn’t going to win this battle. With a sigh of resignation, he handed her more fresh bandages and taking the bowl crossed the room for fresh hot water and linens. 

Returning to stand before her, he undid the buttons of his shirt and spread it wide, before sitting before her. He placed the bowl of water on the floor beside his chair, as she took the linen cloth from his hand. When he unraveled the soiled bandages revealing the red and raggedly stitched cut that stretched across his abdomen, her breath caught and his name fell from her lips, before she turned her head aside. Turning back she briefly met his eyes, unashamed of the emotion revealed, and James released his own held breath when he saw that it was not pity in her eyes, but an honest caring he had never experienced from another. Had anyone ever looked at him that way before, and then followed through? It somehow managed to be both genuine and determined in it’s nature, and James found he could not flinch away in spite of his long held instinct to retreat. He was as compelled to surrender, as she was compelled to act. Thus was the steps of the dance they had begun weeks ago. Her own jaw set and she nodded firmly to him once, that crooked smile briefly flashed.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

James guided her through the steps, giving careful and calm instruction. His lips compressed in a tight line the majority of the procedure. Whether it was from the minimal pain, or restraint from the feel of her fingers light upon his skin, he wasn’t sure. Her head bent low and close so that each movement sent her curls caressing softly across his chest and stomach. Or worse falling in a pool upon his lap. When she had to reach around his waist to wrap the bandages tight, leaning upon him with her head pressed close, the air sucked in between his teeth and he pulled back slightly in his chair.

“Sorry… is it too tight?” She drew back slightly, her concern mistaking the movement for pain, and sought his gaze.

James only shook his head and grunted some reply; his eyes fixed on a far spot on the cabin wall. When she leaned into him again, twining the bandages twice more, not realizing the hand of her own injured arm would often rest on his upper thigh, drawing another stiff intake of air from James. This time a pointed glare sent in her direction.

She quickly offered apology once more, but somewhat tinged with exasperation, “Honestly James, I’m not pulling it that hard.”

James head tipped back and he stared at the ceiling in utter frustration. But also surprised to be feeling this kind of frustration. About her. Lorna shook her head at what appeared an overly dramatic response.

“Men can be the biggest babies.” But she softened the reproach with a gentle smile as she stood and looked down at his upturned gaze; a teasing glint in her eye. “Is it not better now?” 

James could only offer a rueful smile in reply, as he refastened the buttons of his shirt. They put the medical items away and stood a few moments by the stove while James stoked the fire.

Remembering that he had not eaten since the morning, and that she had barely anything at all for 2 days, James grabbed his coat from the peg, stating that he would be back soon with some food. Upon his return, they shared a light repast, their conversation easy and flowing. A shift had happened and the air about them reflected the change. Like a continual charge that fires back and forth along some unseen link. During the meal, James noticed her discomfort, as she plucked at the blood soiled edges and ties of her garments, a look of distaste on her face. He rose and stiffly shuffled to where his own clothing was stored and returned with a clean shirt. Long and lacking any feminine tailoring, Lorna eyed it dubiously, but declared that it’s cleanliness is its greatest merit and gratefully accepts. 

Her injured arm lacking dexterity, she fumbled one handed with the ties of her stay, and James came over to assist her in pulling the ties free. His eyes locked on the laces while Lorna fixed her own stare above his shoulder. Only moving her hands to secure the garment as he pulled the last tie, feeling the garment give way — and their gazes locked. There was a static that surrounded them. A slight crackling in the air that had always been, but now hummed loudly as they both remained upon the verge. The more these feelings were pulled up from the places they had stowed them, the more visible the pull towards the other became. A nervous kind of energy that kept building as the swells of the sea beyond this small space, surging towards it’s inevitable crash upon the shore. He loved that she didn’t look away, but met him on the crest and they rode the moment out together. It was James who shifted his stance feeling his gaze had lingered over long and hastily presented his back so she could don the garment.

With his clean shirt in place and hanging well past her knees, Lorna climbed back into his bed as the best way to preserve any modesty. The irony of such a statement not lost on her, as she pulls the covers up to her chin. In turning around, James catches a glimpse of one pale lean leg and a good amount of shapely thigh before it’s tucked under the blanket. Focusing on some papers seems to the best distraction at the moment, as he settles himself at the table, shuffling papers, staring at maps; and stealing glances at Lorna tucked into his bed. Her eyes sometimes vacantly staring, sometimes watching him, until finally they closed in slumber, one hand tucked under a pale cheek. The long red tresses splayed across the pillow and he recalls how soft they felt within his palm, tangling around his fingers of their own free will. Rubbing tired eyes to clear his mind from such thoughts, and stifling a yawn, he bends to studying maps and ocean routes once again.

The violent jerking of his chin snapping up roused him. Plagued again by the soreness in his neck from too many nights spent sleeping upright. His eyes flicker once more to the bed where she lay still as before, her position unchanged, and he can hear the soft breaths of her deep sleep across the room. A gray tinged with rose colouring outside the sole window tells of dawn approaching. Just a few hours he thinks. And pushing his tired, aching body from the table, treads as light as he can towards the bed. Standing studying her a few moments. The way her lashes rested upon her cheeks. The laugh line all but gone in this relaxed state and he rather misses it. Lips slightly parted open, as well as the place his too large shirt gaps at the curve of her breasts…

Shit. If he’s going to do this, he’d better rein in such thoughts. Leaning over her sleeping form, careful not to awaken her, and gently settles his weight onto the empty space on the far side of the cot. Laying on his back and pressed up against the back wall with hands folded across his chest. Proving a welcome distraction is the faintly seen scrawled script, as he stares upward to the wooden planks where captains before him have scratched their messages. His head briefly turns towards her – though all he sees is the back of her head, her body curved away from him. Just as well he concludes and resting his aching neck upon the soft down pillow, closes his eyes, and is asleep within seconds.

~

The gentle nudge of bright sunlight flooding the cabin for the first time since they sailed roused James from slumber. Shifting to avoid the offending ray, he feels Lorna’s body tucked close against his own. One hand pressed against his side, her forehead resting against his shoulder. He shifts slightly to ease the ache in his side, and she wiggles closer in her sleep seeking his warmth. A soft sigh escaped and he shifted his arm to pull her head closer upon his chest. His chin turning to rest in the curls at her temple. This one time he tells himself. Just this once - as though he’s convincing himself - and his mouth grazes the soft skin of her brow. The hand moves along his chest, coming to rest upon the bared skin where his shirt lays open… but she never wakes. 

She fit perfectly against him. All her lines and curves lining up with his own edges. The soothing feel of her just like this, more than he ever expected to feel. He fears what his mind might conjure were more to happen. And then the entire truth of that strikes him – he’s definitely thinking of doing more. Of pulling her up against him and tasting the curve of her crooked smile against his own mouth. Feeling his body respond to that thought, and following it further; how she would move under him. How those sighs would change if he buried himself deep within her. His fingers involuntary grip her arm as his thoughts wander freely. If she wakes now, he might not be able to resist, given the pounding in his chest and that he’s lifted that veil now. Only the fear of what lays beneath, of what else he might see if his thoughts gave way to action, is enough to douse his desire in seconds. Just this once he will hold her close and think of what might be. Tomorrow he would find her a cabin of her own.

Better to be alone in the night with his mental wanderings… this madness, for he didn’t think he could bear a mistake made twice. Not with her. So he would walk this tightrope of moving ever closer to her, but with restraint as his balance pole, also holding himself apart. Another sigh and she shivered in her sleep; his arm pulling her closer up against his warmth. Just this once he breathed into the red tendrils still holding a soft and feminine scent. Breathing a sigh of his own, James gave in to this temporary bliss, and the sleep that followed was the deepest he had in months. Maybe even years. Or ever.

The one thing James still had to learn was despite how brutally honest he was with others, he was very good at lying to himself. A more perceptive man would have noted the soft touch of the fingers that had trailed upon his naked chest. The light touch of fingertips tracing the raised scar, while he had been so lost and struggling within his own mind. It’s a hard fall when love knocks you down and takes you off guard. Even more dangerous is when it creeps in softly, smoothing all the hard edges you had so carefully tended. Like river rocks laying at the bottom of a stream unmoved, but not unchanged. Gradually they yield to the ever flowing current that flows upon them. Their once jagged edges becoming smooth, though the strength of the rock itself remains. The amazing truth is that the transformation of the rock also alters the flow of the water. Forcing it in a new direction, but it’s destination unchanged. The two forces in perfect union with one another, in a blending of strengths that sweeps ever on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Lorna wake up to a chilled room... but the heat between the two of them continues to rise.  
> Is it too much for James troubled mind? Can he put the past behind him, or will it be Lorna he puts aside?  
> She will need a strong heart AND head to weather the storm inside this man.

“You snore.”

Her brown eyes holding a hint of laughter were the first thing he saw when his own opened. She lay on her side cradling the sore arm close, her head back on her own pillow. He considered the single raised brow that may have been mocking him. He frowned slightly, his mind trying to recall how they came to be sharing his bed, until he remembered the path of his own thoughts in the early morning light. He squinted a reply.

“You steal all the covers.” 

Her jaw dropped in feigned insult, but her eyes still held a smile, “Well I was cold. The fire has gone out again.” 

Raising up and peeking over her shoulder he saw the truth of her words, but with a grumbled protest only sunk further into the soft confines of the mattress. His eyes slamming closed as he mumbled. 

“I believe it’s your turn.”

She laughed out right, “To build a fire? Are you mad?”  
James peeked one eye open at her as if to say _come on now._ Lorna bit her lip slightly as her brow furrowed in apology, “That is, if you want your second ship burned down, than fine.”

He couldn’t hold back his own chuckle, half convinced of the truth of her statement, but he still made no move to leave. He felt her body shift on the bed and opened his eyes once more. Her head lay on the pillow, the curls artfully arranged around like a fiery halo, several strands caught in the collar of his shirt. Its blue colour complimented the ivory tone of her skin, contrasting with the red in her hair. He wondered how a gown of the same shade would look. It made him think back to the green dress she had worn to the Ball. The bodice low cut and catching the eye of Cholmondeley, as he dragged his drug pipes over her creamy bosom. James frowned from his side of the bed …

“James?” He startled realizing she had been speaking to him. 

“Hmmm?” He stared blankly back. Her eyes were so close he could see the various shades of brown and tiny gold flecks within them. So warm and welcoming, though her brow raised and she signed in exasperation.

“The fire James… before we both catch our chill.” 

Tilting his head slightly, the smile played about his mouth, “You mean me? Because you will be fine since you have all the covers?”

Her _humpff_ sounded loud in the quiet cabin, but at least she had the decency to blush, knowing the truth of his words. Still, she couldn’t resist pulling them up closer to her chin, and her shiver was not entirely for dramatic purposes. His chuckle came from deep in his chest and Lorna decided she quite liked hearing the sound. He watched her eyes drift close in contentment.

“In a few minutes Lorna… I’m not sure I am entirely awake yet.”

Thankfully her face was tucked half away under a blanket and her eyes were tightly closed, because her entire body tensed at the sound of her name passing his lips. She fought the desire to look at him, as all seemed quiet and still from his side of the bed. She thought it might be forth coming, once she had read it so neatly scripted upon the letter delivered by Robert the day they had left. Still, the whole of it, this entire occurrence – the least of which was them sharing a bed – was surprisingly comfortable. She marveled at the lack of awkwardness or shyness she felt with him. As though they had awoke staring into the other’s eyes a dozen times before. No, she'd only peeked into his soul, what's a few inches between them?

Of course it couldn’t happen again. They’d both been exhausted last night and she felt bad for his previous night spent dozing in a chair. Discounting propriety’s sake, it was perhaps a step far too soon in whatever their relationship was growing into. Their emotional journey was rivaling the physical journey of the past 72 hours; in truth, she felt the need for a respite. Still, feeling deep contentment, she snuggled further down in the covers, inching slightly closer to where James lay quietly; his breathing regular once more. She risked a peek and found his eyes closed, long lashes resting on his still cut and bruised cheeks. Her heart clenched at what he’d endured, and she sighed in relief that it was behind them now. Curled towards him, their heads mere inches from one another, she watched him until her eyes fluttered closed.

The sudden knock upon the door and the bellowed “James!” brought them both to the surface fast. This time their eyes locked in wild surprise. A moment’s hesitation while he searched her gaze, the question posed. Lorna bit her lower lip, but when Atticus called his name once more with a firmer knock, she simply shrugged her shoulder and left the decision to James. They couldn’t very well hide now. Besides this was supposed to be the ship where no judgement sailed.

A slight tilt of his head and raised brow were the only clues he gave to show he was impressed by her calm acceptance. Pulling himself up to sit with his back braced against the wall, he called for Atticus to enter.

The door pushed open and Atticus came striding through full tilt spying James sitting up on the bed. Words already tumbling out of his mouth.

“James we got a problem with the barrels…” He stopped short when he came close enough to the cot to see that Lorna was tucked down under the covers, her eyes watching him closely. James sat cross legged tucked in behind her, his gaze neutral. To his credit, Atticus recovered easily.

“Good day to you Mrs. Delaney, sorry to be interrupting your morning, I just be needing the Captain here for a few moments.” He inclined his head towards the door, indicating a need for privacy. James nodded and climbed his body over Lorna’s lower half to escape the confines of the bed. Turning his gaze towards her, “You should rest more today. I’ll have Robert bring some tea and breakfast.”

Her smile was easy, “Thank you James, and perhaps a book if he can find one? I cannot lay about all day with nothing to occupy my mind.”

James nodded and with a last smile, took his leave to follow Atticus into the hallway. She didn't miss the punch the bald criminal landed on James shoulder as they exited the door. 

~

The rest of the day passed much differently for the two of them. Lorna still resting in his cabin, her day spent reading and visiting with Robert, Godfrey and even Pearl; as she learned the young blond woman’s name correctly. The slow passing of the time along with the easily agitated state of her mind confirming that it was nigh time she was up and moving soon. Her arm still pained, a slight burning sensation that lingered, but otherwise the use of it was returning. Seeking something to keep herself busy, she realized no one seemed to be addressing the matter of schooling for Robert. The boy had a quick mind for sure, but it was clear any formal education was sorely lacking. Now with Cholmondeley’s life still hanging in the balance, she felt the weight of responsibility for the boy. Perhaps Godfrey might assist. She made a mental note to discuss the matter with James when she saw him.

The other concerning matter was the manner in which their relationship had surged forward. Fragile as it was, there was no doubt a bond had forged between them. The other frailty was clearly James own mind and knowing that he was deeply troubled – traumatized even; she did not seek to push the matter passed his coping ability. She couldn’t bear to be one who brought him more pain. Her independence was a valued thing and she had no interest in saving a man from himself. Yet, she couldn’t explain why she had come to care so deeply for this wounded man. Except that she saw a kindness, nobility even, locked deep inside. Something of herself in his heart. So much had happened since entering the world of the Delaney’s: it both thrilled and somewhat terrified her. This adventurous course she had embarked upon. Any concern she may have had over her lot being cast with him had faded, for deep down she knew her curiosity about the man would not diminish. She wanted to know him deeper than anyone. Even surprising, she wanted him to see her. The real her – not the actress who played a role upon a stage. She wasn’t quite sure if this was love, but she did know: she would fight fiercely to protect whatever measure of happiness or peace they could find together on this journey, no matter how small the crumb. And woe to anyone who added to the long list of hurts the man already carried. 

Still, for now, she needed her watch to have a little more distance than a shared bed. The feel of his warm chest and his heart beating beneath her palm had stirred other feelings she was not quite ready to face. The actress could be trusted to deal with those.

~

James day was much busier and stressful. The rolling pitch of the ship in the night had caused some gunpowder barrels to break from their binds. The crew had spent a tense morning ensuring they were once again tightly secured. He thought back to Lorna’s casual remark about his second ship burning, and shuddered at how accurate she might have been. And there she was in his thoughts again. Dammit. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit she had been in the back of his thoughts for weeks. Lingering at the edges while he pursued what he thought he wanted. A pang of grief constricted his chest once more, and a vision of his sister floating in the water flirted at the edges of his mind. 

_The tide won’t bring her back._

James leaned against a wall of the ship and shook his head to clear the vision. He knew he had made the right decision. That everything between he and Zilpha had been wrong and destructive from the start. He couldn’t change the past, but he’d been strong enough, he thought, to alter their future. To cease this punishing thing he had started. He had wanted more for her, as a brother should, and the weight of his guilt threatened to drown him still. 

He puzzled over how the change had come, and it was then his mind made the connection. When he was with Lorna, the past seemed to melt away. He forgot the things he should and for the first time saw a future of possibilities. With someone who might share his dreams, and was strong enough to endure whatever trials may threaten them. When she smiled that crooked smile, everything suddenly just felt right. Like the world could actually hold beauty for him once more. 

Staring blankly at the opposite wall, while others scurried about him, James knew deep down that so much hung in the balance of his own troubled mind. But he'd only just lifted that scab. Festering guilt had left his mind ineffective. Dwelling in a haunted past rendered an inadequate present. And with so many perceived failures dominating his mind, an impossible future seemed to stretch before him. He needed to settle his mind - allow logical thinking to return. Reconcile truths. Until the wounds were pulled back further, he had no choice but to create some distance between them. The most important aspect of all: finding her a bed. With so many men on-board and only trusting her protection to himself, she still would have to be close by – especially during the night should any danger threaten. Straightening himself, he strode purposefully towards Atticus and French Bill.

“Gentlemen, a word if you please.”

~

It was early evening when James returned to the cabin, opening the door while trying to balance two trays in one hand. Lorna rushed over to help him by taking the tea service as it dipped precariously towards the floor; pleased to note that her injured arm was regaining strength. James nodded his thanks and crossed to set the tray laden with several covered dishes on the small dining table, while she placed the tea on a small sideboard. Seated across from one another and both famished, they tucked heartily into the food. After a few moments of silence, Lorna questioned him regarding how he fared with the problem this morning.

“Did it have something to do with all the noise in the passageway today?”

James shook his head and explained about the barrels, as well as some other smaller instances that had arose during the course of the day. Never did he imagine himself in such a domestic scenario, or that he’d enjoy it. He grew quiet of sudden as an awkwardness came over him. Always perceptive to his moods, Lorna wondered if it was a good time to broach him about the room situation. 

“James?”

His head lifted to meet her gaze and though he wanted to remain aloof, he couldn’t help how it softened when he saw her own worry plainly evident. 

“The noise? In the passage…”

Clearing his throat, he knew she deserved the truth and given all that had transpired between them, he could give her no less.

“I had my men prepare the First Mate’s cabin across the hall for you. Atticus preferred bunking down near the other men so as to keep an eye on the lot. I thought you might find it more comfortable… more agreeable to have your own space. Privacy.”

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely the truth he mentally chastised himself. But _I’m too afraid to be alone with you because I might see my dead mother, or sister, or god knows what else, also I’m thinking about kissing you a lot lately…._ didn’t sound right either. To her credit she held his gaze, chin cupped in her slim hands, hiding nothing from him.

“No, I don’t know if _agreeable_ is the right word, yet - I don’t discard it entirely. Perhaps it is for the best though. Propriety and such?” Her gaze and elbows dropped to the table. Feeling as though he owed – no, that wasn’t quite right either – he _wanted_ to give her more, James reached across the table to take one of her hands in his own. 

“Lorna, we both know that neither of us gives a damn what anyone else thinks. It’s one of your most charming attributes, although I’ve been told it’s not one of my own. “ He offered a wry smile, “and I would not seek to alter things between us, or our room if I felt I could give…” He grew quiet, but she felt the squeeze of his fingers upon her own seeking her understanding. She nodded and squeezed her own reply. 

“I know and I agree.” 

He leaned forward, his eyes intently diving into the depths of her own so that he saw himself reflected back, “You know that you are welcome here? Anytime.” He let that sit between them. 

“I feel the same way.” 

Their heads nodded in unison and with a final squeeze of her hands, James released them and leaned back in his chair. An easy smile appeared and he once again was awed at just how effortless it was with her. After so much time of what felt like constant conflict and arguments with Zilpha. A shadow crossed his face and the smile disappeared. He pushed those thoughts away. Not wanting it to intrude on this moment, he rose from the table and cleared the tray away. Returning with the tea service with a firm resolve to leave the past – and it’s ghosts – out of his present. His black memories had spread like a disease to all corners of his mind, clouding his thoughts and always flinging him back to places he didn’t want to be. Doubt, worry, and guilt the twisted branches of a tree that grew inside him; holding him captive instead of offering shelter. Here in her strong heart and brave soul he had found that shelter, and it was something worth protecting. He had thought Hope was just an illusion, but now he was floating upon it with a destination in mind. Though casting her away from him may have seemed like a step backwards, he was trusting that their bond was deep enough to endure. Seeing her so relaxed with him, the shine of confidence in her eyes, he knew no matter what may befall: they would always catch each other.

Walking her to the room later on that evening, his nerves fluttered like a schoolboy on his first date. When she spied all her personal belongings neatly arranged within the smaller cabin and cast a wide smile in his direction, his heart jumped in his chest. 

“Will it be suitable?”

Lorna crossed to the window, slightly smaller than the one in James cabin, but a view nonetheless, and a special touch was the window seat with warm blankets and over stuffed pillows beneath it. A perfect reading nook.

“Yes, I think it will be quite suitable, thank you.”

It was obvious the place had undergone a thorough cleaning and she made a mental note to thank his men for that consideration. She turned back to find James leaning against the door, his eyes silently watching her. A hint of indecision around their edges. Her voice cut the tension in the room.

“Well, I’m really very tired, it’s been an exhausting past few days…”

A flicker of concern flashed across his features, “Does it pain much?” 

Glancing down at her bandaged arm, she shook her head, “Not much, it’s tolerable. Much better in fact. Just tired that’s all.”

With a nod, he still stood on the brink on taking his leave, when she called him once more.  
“James?”  
He raised a brow and stepped forward struggling to maintain a neutral expression. “If it’s possible, would have time to join me for tea tomorrow… there’s a matter I’d like to discuss.” He stopped just before her, brow raised. “Concerning Robert, and possibly some schooling for the boy? I dare say he’s not had much.”

He merely nodded his acceptance and remained standing before her, eyes searching her own. _Fuck why could he not make himself leave the damn room._ Lorna sensing the push and pull between them, decided to save him – just this once.

Crossing the space to the door, she held it open and turned to meet that probing stare, the implication clear within her own. “Good night James, and thank you for all this.”

He was torn between wanting to stay and knowing he must leave. His mind still questioning this decision to let her go, when he’d held her so close. But she stood holding the door, unwavering, Unsure how to interpret her confidence in this matter, all he could do was follow where she led; trusting once again. The truth was – she’d never let him down yet.

Stopping before her, he held her gaze for a few moments, before reaching a hand to her head and closing the space between them. Damn if she didn’t straighten up and lean in toward him. He felt her chest heave as all the air pushed out between them and he knew his worries were unfounded when she refused to avert her eyes. Leaning down, his mouth brushed her temple before sliding down the curve of her cheek, where his whispered _sleep well_ was a caress upon the exposed softness of her neck. He felt the shiver course through her body and lingered a few moments, seeing desire mirrored in her eyes. Then just as suddenly he stepped back and with a nod bade her, “Good night.”

And it didn’t feel like a good-bye at all. For his mind had filled in the words he as yet couldn’t say. An endearment tested within his mind, but that had not quite settled upon his heart as fact. It echoed and rolled about in his head the rest of the night, as though testing the flavour: “my love.” One truth he loved learning about her, was knowing if he tried to call her in her dreams, he was quite certain she would not answer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Colonnade Problem - James leaves the ship to deal with the next stage in his plan, leaving Lorna alone to pass the hours with Godfrey, Robert and Cholmondeley. As his absences stretches, she tries to hold things together on the ship.... including herself. She's not missing him at all.

It took several moments for Lorna to adjust to waking up in a third new location within as many days. She missed the warmth of James beside her, and it both annoyed and surprised her to discover how one night sleeping beside the man could stir up the loneliness she had buried deep. It was easy to dismiss that empty feeling, until you met someone whose absence had a way of filling a room. It was so hard to stand still under the brush of his lips on her temple, his breath on her neck and not beg him to stay like some desperate fool. Though she was well aware many already thought her the fool for daring to tie herself to the Devil Delaney. 

A fool for not being afraid of what might lie beneath if she was wrong? For seeing the man beneath the myth? Just a deeply, troubled man trying to find his way back. She admired the courage and the fight within him. Something within him that spoke to something within her. A Wanting that burned so hard she feared she might crack at the edges; like a river parched too long.  
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she heard Robert’s young voice from the other side. 

“Come in Robert.”

Robert’s shy face peeked around the edge of the door, but as soon as he saw Mrs. Delaney’s smile upon him, his own spread ear to ear. He held the tea tray up proudly.  
“Mr. Delaney said I was to bring your morning tea here each day Mrs. Delaney.”

Lorna shifted uncomfortably in the bed at the idea of the young boy waiting on her in such a manner. However, she also saw how his face beamed with pride at being given a task of such responsibility. As was her nature, she found the way between the difficult paths. 

“That is lovely Robert, but only if you will join me most days as well? Tea is meant to be enjoyed with good company you know.”

The boy’s face shone at being asked to join such a lady as he deemed Mrs. Delaney. Lorna fetched another cup from the cabinet in the corner and motioned for him to join her at the small table.  
Robert settled himself in the manner he thought a gentleman would sit with a lady. Careful to keep his hands and elbows off the table, and at the last moment reached up to snatch his hat off his head. Lorna smiled her approval and the boy’s chest swelled with pride. She poured tea for them and leaning back, letting the warmth of the brew seep into her hands and through her body.

“So Robert, tell me what was life like on a farm? Being a city girl, I imagine it was quite a thrill to be around animals every day?”

The normally quiet Robert, took a quick gulp of his tea, and though he burned his tongue in the process, it didn’t halt the flow of words that tumbled forth. Lorna simply sat back and let him ramble, quite convinced that she was receiving a full decade’s worth of words he’d been waiting to speak. It was one of the most delightful tea chats she’d ever had. For Robert, he was sure no grown up – no person indeed – had ever listened to him as attentively as she did that morning. Hence the reason he was always so quiet. Though the brew tasted a bit bitter, he was sure he was going to love morning tea.  
~  
Over the next few days, the ship settled into its routines. Lorna finally had healed and now bored to distraction, or perhaps seeking to be useful, entered the kitchen galley one day. As much as he had grown to love the lady, Robert seeing her speaking to the cooks, ran to find James. He was discussing a matter of import with Atticus and impatiently brushed him aside. Not wishing to anger the man he’s still somewhat fearful towards, but knowing the serious of the situation, Robert takes a deep breath and mumbles loudly. 

“But it’s Mrs. Delaney sir!”

James instantly turned towards the boy, fearing some bad news concerning Lorna, as the boy clutched at his sleeve his eyes wide, “The ducks sir? Remember the ducks?!” 

Brow furrowed and frowning intently, James turned back to Atticus to declare this was indeed a most serious situation requiring his urgent attention. _A matter of life and death_ he tells the man, with a wink towards Robert who clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Atticus stood mutely staring at them for a moment before backing away muttering about _mad Delaney’s_ and something that rhymed with “duck” that they could do with said duck. 

Together James and Robert set off to avert certain disaster in the kitchen. James distracting the already apron clad Lorna by way of that little matter of the boys’ education you were inquiring about? Sweetening the offer by stating the boy had just asked him a question about a certain Shakespeare play. Delighted she dragged the boy off to determine if there was a copy aboard, Robert tossing James a _traitor – I saved us all!_ – look over his shoulder. To which James mouthed silently back _I owe you_. 

In addition to his Captain duties, James could often be found in his cabin working on the Colonnade Problem – most of which he kept to himself. A need to know basis they all assumed. Lorna, Robert or Godfrey often discovered him asleep at his table, papers and maps spread about him. Or on the floor before the stove. Besides this, he never seems to sleep much and all share their concern regarding his welfare. Lorna is the only one he will listen to and begrudgingly seeks his bunk when confronted with her standing in his cabin, hands on her hips and refusing to leave. 

One late night James returned to his cabin to find Lorna seated by his fire stove. A well-worn copy of _Lyrical Ballads_ lay discarded on the floor while she stared into the dancing flames. Quietly James slipped into the room and taking a seat upon the floor, picked up the book. Lorna cast a side glance and returned her gaze to the fire, her profile caught in the glowing blaze. 

“Ahh… and are we _seeing into the life of things_ this evening?”

She cast a surprised glance at him, impressed that he knew the piece.  
“Well I am most definitely not _laid asleep_ ,” she sighed deeply, fidgeting upon the chair. “I had trouble sleeping and my room had taken a chill.”

James set the book down and moved to add more coal to the dying fire. Pointing to the book once again, “A favourite?”

Lorna gave a brief chuckle and slanted her head, “Well I favour it over deciphering maps and ship’s logs. Beggars and choosers.” She bent over and picked the book up once more. “Still, it is rather poignant to be reading about the home one is sailing away from.” 

James carefully studied her in the dim lit room trying to ascertain the cause of her melancholy mood. In his head calculating the distance remaining to Ponta Delgado. By his calculations they should see the islands within a day or two.  
“Perhaps you can find more worthy material when we reach the port of Ponta Delgada?” 

She cast him a small smile, but her eyes returned to watch the flames. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but he wondered if it was the present course of action that she might be questioning. Was she having regrets about the journey already? An unfamiliar unease settled in his stomach as he searched his mind for a way to draw her out. He need not have worried.

“Perhaps I’m just impatient to be there.” She leaned forward towards him, and he saw the spark ignite within her eyes. “Don’t you think about it James? What’s on the other side? What will it be like – what will we see? It’s exciting and terrifying and… so unknown.” 

The enthusiasm she expressed set him back, and he was surprised to hear her excitement about what adventure might lay on the other side of an ocean. Her spirit was infectious enough to set his mind, and stomach, at ease. He reached across the space and touched her hand. “But I do know.”

Lorna chuckled, “Well, yes I suppose you do. But I have only had but glimpses.” She grasped his hand, “and I want to see the whole of it! To see with my own eyes, and not another.”  
He stared at her with a quizzical look upon his face.

Lorna sighed. “Your father’s letters? Drawings? Oh, they were beautiful and quite detailed…” she dropped his hand and leaned back in her chair, “but it’s not ever quite like the real thing, is it?”

James smiled and shook his head. So, she had an adventurer’s heart. No wonder his father had fallen for her. _Like father, like son_. Am I? Like my father? 

“I guess they arouse a bit of wanderlust in me. Though… we never went anywhere.” Her gaze cast to the floor and her shoulders hunched inward, “truth is, he was gone almost shortly after he appeared. I only ever saw him a few times when he would come to a play. But… he did write beautifully.”

James shifted upon the floor, stretching his long legs towards the fire, an inaudible mumble directed at the floor. 

“I’m sorry James… I shouldn’t…”  
“And what did they say?”

Their eyes met across the fire glow, James holding both curiosity and a tiny ember that still burned brighter than the flames. His jaw was set in a rigid line, but once again his eyes couldn’t hide the hurt that blazed behind them.

“The letters you burned?”

Another grunt, while his gaze burned into her own, but she caught the slight narrowing of his brow and twist of his mouth where both regret and hesitation danced upon his features. A breath expelled and she rose from the chair, pushing it aside and grabbed the blanket before settling upon the floor beside him. Turning her head she met his gaze, saw the lines of his face dissolve into the mask of vulnerability she had seen before. Smiling softly to break the fall, she began…

“Well he had a way with words, no doubt about that, but he was damn awful at drawing birds.” 

James gave a short laugh and briefly dipped his head. “I remember he used to raise his fist to the sky and curse the gulls for shitting on the boat.” 

James shook his head, the memory of his youthful times with his father bittersweet. The happy memory felt like an intruder inside the vault of his less pleasant recollections. The angry thoughts he had nursed for so many years. They pressed against the door of his mind, unwilling to be made homeless. She could see the inner struggle waging war in the way his hand rubbed his forehead alongside the temple, as though he could wish the sorting of his mind into fruition. Rising, she went to the decanter holding Delaney’s finest and poured several inches in two tumblers. Returning to the fire and handing one to him before once more settling upon the floor. She took a good measured gulp, immediately followed by a grimace and deep coughing fit, while James tried to hide his smile behind his own glass. A true maiden’s splutter – and then he couldn’t conceal his laughter anymore. 

Her smile was as warm as the drink in their bellies, and the gentleness in her gaze held both a question and a promise. The conversation regarding Horace letters lasted long into the night, and more than half the bottle of Delaney rum. Most of it consumed by James, though she did manage to take a sip without the sputter sometime during the second tumbler full. She told him all that she could remember – letters from his father to him, to and from his mother, but wisely left out her own exchanges. For they were now shown to be fanciful, but ultimately empty promises from a sick and dying man and a youthful woman seeking something more than what life had granted. James asked few questions; content to just let her ramble as her mind could recall at whim. Her voice soothing and smoothing out the tension in his body, while the fire cracked and popped in the background. Every now and then interjecting with a memory from his youth. Or commenting on some exotic port of call to which he had also traveled. He let her talk until the pauses between lengthened and her eyes took on a heavy lidded appearance. The fire had died down to embers casting an ethereal glow upon her features. Watching her silently a truth dawned upon him: she seemed to naturally understand the significance of things. 

_See into the life of things_.

The thought came to him that if she were a book, he’d devour the pages in a single sitting. His fingers returning to trace the inked words every now and then. Kindness would be its language and he imagined he would feel the coldness slowly leaving his heart as the warmth of her words sunk into his being. In giving her his trunk of truth, had his father foreseen these moments? Surely he must have known that his death would inevitably cast them together. Tonight he was glad for a respite from the angry tension he’d carried within him. Though he still harbored the resentment towards his father; perhaps it was slowly melting away. Noting the dropping of her chin upon her chest and the shadow of her lashes upon her cheeks, James reached over and placed his hand upon her back. She swayed and leaned into him, turning drowsy eyes that tried and failed to focus on his own. Perhaps a little more rum than sleep floating within them. Standing up, he grasped her hand and pulled her up where she swayed into his shoulder. He laughed softly at the sleepy smile she gave him, and then led her back to her room. Lorna barely remembered walking, for it felt as though her feet never touched the ground. She was simply pulled along by some force that gripped her hand so surely she trusted it to get her wherever she was going. Vaguely she remembered laying down upon the bed and the heavy warmth of the blankets tucked around her. The gentle brush of something soft upon her brow and the warm breath of air by her ear. Her own words held in, until lost in dreams laced with a restless abandon and alive with colour … his name passed her lips more than a few times.  
~  
The following day started with another pleasant morning tea with Robert, and much to her delight Godfrey knocking upon her door to join them. He had been spending most of his time with the still recuperating Cholmondeley, and she had to admit she was relieved to hear he was doing well. Reaching across the table she rested a hand upon one of Godfrey’s own, remarking how grateful they were for his care of the chemist. When Godfrey invited her to visit him, she happily accepted. While they sipped their tea, the low murmur of voices could be heard from James cabin, and she couldn’t help casting several curious glances towards the door to the passageway.

“They’ve been in there since early this morning.” Godfrey leaned across the table, his voice a hushed whisper. 

“James did say we should be reaching the port within a few days.”  
She glanced at Robert who listened attentively, “I don’t suppose you will have to go running about delivering letters this time.”  
He gave her an easy smile and ducked his head. 

When they took their leave of her cabin, Lorna glanced down the hallway towards his closed door and lingered a few moments before shrugging her shoulders and closing the door.  
One thing she knew about James was most things were a need to know basis which you wouldn’t ever know until such time as he decided you needed to know. She shook her head to clear her thoughts – all these conspiracies and secrets really were exhausting. Choosing a book from her shelf, she curled up in her window seat; but though it was one of her favourite – one ear still leaned towards her door.  
~  
The entire day had nearly past and though she heard the men leave James cabin, she only saw a single glimpse of the man the entire day. When she had crossed the deck to visit Cholmondeley, she spied him at the far end of the boat with Robert, teaching the boy the proper handling of a pistol. Though she felt a measure of concern over the matter, she dismissed it as something best left to his judgement. Indeed by the look of sheer happiness upon the boys’ face, he certainly was game to learn. Though she hoped this did not mean he would be taking the young boy along on this latest adventure. She couldn’t decide whether she was slightly annoyed at not being deemed one who had earned the right to be in the know… or, as she rubbed a finger across her gunshot scar, if she was one of the blessed ignorant. Feeling tired due to the late evening prior, she retired earlier than usual; her dreams flinging her to far off places. As she stood in a forest surrounded by incredible beauty, the wind teased the curls at her temple and caressed its whisper upon the curve of her cheek. She smiled in her sleep, the touch familiar and warm, sighing as it flitted upon her skin. A gentle pressure upon her arm and then a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. She paused in the dream, thinking she heard her named voiced by the wind – the squeeze once more, stronger. Pulled out of the lush surroundings she opened her eyes and found James gaze from where he stood beside the bed. His fingers trailed down her arms until they grasped her own. 

“Come on.” 

He led her down the passageway, her fingers still clasped within his own, and up to the deck which was swallowed in darkness. She cast a curious glance towards him, but found his gaze directed up at the night sky. 

“Look.”

Following his gaze she lifted her own to see the velvet expanse of ink that seemed to flow all around them, her jaw dropping in amazement at the tiny, twinkling eyes upon the black canvas. Never had she seen so many stars. James pulled her close against his side drawing their clasped hand up towards the heavens, his finger pointing and tracing a pattern of seven stars among the stars. 

“Do you see it? From my father’s letter that you described?”  
He traced it again, naming the seven points as he traced the figure, “sides and handle…”

Her breath caught as the image finally appeared before her eyes, “Oh!! The Plough!”  
He could see the flash of her smile in the darkness and the unspoken question in her eyes as she turned to look at him. _Why?_

Shrugging his shoulders, “One wonder seen for real.” 

Her heart flipped that he remembered the conversation from the previous evening. That he had passed along these old wood boards and looking up, had seen this guiding sign and thought of her. As they stood beneath this magical canvas he pointed out various other constellations, describing how they were used for navigation. She leaned into his warmth and let the low timbre of his voice wash over her, until she suddenly caught the words “only gone for about three to four days at most.” 

Colonnade. No other information was forthcoming, save that he assured her Godfrey would remain behind to be near for protection, staying briefly in his own cabin. Other men had also been charged with keeping a watchful eye, but he kept that to himself. 

“You will keep a close eye on Robert, though the boy will think it his duty to keep a close eye on you?” His eyes conveying how important a matter the responsibility for her safekeeping meant to the lad. 

She nodded her head, pleased that he should have thought so. It was a quiet walk back to her cabin as each carried their own worries in the recesses of their minds. 

_I am happy to admit I don’t want James Delaney to die._

As usual, he held his thoughts locked deep within, but he could not keep the truth from shining within his eyes as they stood at her door. Fingers once more twisting about her own, as he looked upon her as though it might truly be the last time. Perhaps both seeking more in the moment, but unsure how to cross that divide with absence – and danger - looming before them. He leaned in close, as though an invisible thread strung between the two of them, a faint brush of lips upon her cool cheek as he said good night. His fingers slipped from her own and as she watched him walk away, much like how those stars hung above in their blackened void, she prayed the thread would hold.  
~  
The first few days passed by quickly, the daily routine of the ship keeping them all busy enough that any worries were kept at bay. Lorna, Godfrey and Robert were nearly inseparable and would enjoy their meals and tea time daily, and watch the activity of the port from the bow of the boat. To Robert’s disappointment, Lorna had not forgot about his schooling, and together with Godfrey and Cholmondeley they each took turns giving the boy instruction in particular subjects. Both Lorna and Cholmondeley found any easy comfort in sitting upon the deck in the quieter times, while she read to him from some play or novel. Her gift for the dramatic telling a balm to his injured body and spirit, and indeed his fondness for her only grew by the hour. Though his scarring was healing well and would likely be minimal, he was still quite certain that she already belonged to another. Even if that one did not know it. But he saw it in the way her eyes would often dart towards the busy port. Or the frequency of his name dropped in conversation. But mostly in the way her eyes would shine and her crooked smile flash when she read a particularly romantic piece. Early evenings would find her standing by the side of the ship, her hands held tightly in front and her back straight, her gaze forward. 

By the fourth day of James absence, she had passed from worry, to fear, to now simply missing him so much a lump had taken residence in her throat. Godfrey had been forced to accept her company late into the night, as sleep also seemed to have fled with his long absence. She needed to be around his things, breathe the still lingering scent of the Fore Shore that hung about the space, and when she had grown too tired to converse, or pace, she would seek the fire for comfort. It was only when sheer exhaustion overtook both senses and limbs that she would seek her own bed, falling into restless slumber. 

_I did not know the absence of you could fill a room._

It was as though his aura remained within the spaces they shared. A silhouette that carved itself from that dark sky and followed her about the daylight hours. The unknown a constant ache that dulled every other sensation; save that longing ache that echoed in the marrow of her bones. By the fifth night, she knew the missing of someone could take out every fibre of your being; wringing you out like a wet sponge until there were no more tears. She sought the solace of her room early, sleep the only escape from the nagging worry that beset her. Before sleep claimed her, she caught a glimpse of the starry expanse through the small window and her wish was simple: just let him be alive. Her dreams were dark and filled with shadows looming, and her name being called as though from far away. She tossed upon the bed, her lips murmuring unintelligible words as the nightmare gripped her. Then came a warm and gentle touch soothing the fears and she sighed deeply, pressing into the pillow once more. A pleasing scent circled about her and she followed its aroma towards sweeter dreams. 

When daylight flooded her small cabin, forcing her eyes opened, the weight of sadness still crushed upon her chest. She pressed her palms tightly against her eyes to stem a new flow of tears, willing bad thoughts to keep their distance. He has to live! Turning on her side, she caught a fragrant scent in the air. As her eyes focused, the source was revealed; a single, red, long stemmed rose lay upon her pillow. Her heart leapt.

James was back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter concerning fire chats, calm centres, stormy seas; and where Lorna and James get a good soaking.

When Lorna reached the upper deck of the ship only a few crew were present, diligently engrossed in their labours. Descending the galley stairs she made her way to the kitchen mess. As she drew closer, a familiar low grunt could be heard and her heart clenched within her chest. Entering the kitchen area, she noticed several of the crew had already gathered around the numerous tables for the breakfast meal. Atticus, French Bill, Godfrey and Cholmondeley sat at the Captain’s Table… and there at the head sat James; his eyes downcast. Her entrance caused a hush to come over the room, as each head turned from her, to where James head suddenly snapped up – as if he had felt her presence. His eyes commenced a slow perusal over her entire form, while she stood silent beneath the force of his gaze. 

When their eyes met, the breath was stolen from her body and the heat from her skin; as if they would cross the space between them and melt into his own form. Her brain did not seem capable of forming a thought, other than how to erase the ground between them. James face betrayed no emotion other than his steady regard of her. Though within, the urge to touch her screamed from every atom; threatening to tear themselves apart just for the chance to be close to her. In the presence of so many it was necessary to put a stopper on the emotions swirling inside; bottling them up to be savored at a later time. Gathering herself she nodded to the gentlemen and took a seat at the opposite end of the table, before her eyes lifted to James once more; taking note of a new cut along the brow of his left eye. His gaze had never left her and a loose grin now played about the stubble on his chin. The tension seeped from their bodies, saturating the room in unspoken need, and more than a few throats were cleared amidst the heavy silence. They were saved by the arrival of the meal and all were grateful for the jovial and witty banter between Atticus and Cholmondeley to save them from the charged air that encompassed the space. It was with some relief the others finished eating and had escaped the small space err the sound of the chairs scraping upon the wood had ceased.

Their eyes held each other across the length of the wooden table. He could see something of her spirit dancing in those warm pools. It came to mind what a loss it would be should it ever be extinguished, and more to the point, should he be the one to do so. He used to think it was the crooked smile that was now flashing at him that he loved the most, but now he thought it might just be looking into her eyes that he had missed so much. A silent connection of soul’s sharing. She chewed her bottom lip before breaking the silence.

“How did your business fare?”

James set down his cup, gesturing to the chair beside him while his tone traveled towards her deep and low, “Why don’t you come sit here and I will tell you all about it?”

Smiling, she settled in the seat beside him, their knees grazing beneath the worn and scratched surface. Concern clouded her eyes as she reached up to touch his latest injury and James didn’t flinch at her touch. Instead they leaned close to one another while he recounted the events of the past days. To anyone passing by, the gentle gaze of their eyes and the relaxed nature of their features bore witness to how their communication was a comfort to one another. The power of words to draw close and open hearts – all balanced on the simple, but oft forgotten act of someone listening. When they left the ships’ mess area, it wasn’t only Lorna that felt the weight of James hand resting on her lower back as he escorted her from the room.

~

Once the Good Hope turned her sails westward, life on the boat took on an air of excitement and anticipation. As the weeks passed, everyone settled into the routine that would assist them in the arduous transatlantic crossing. James and Lorna, though each having various daily duties, always seemed to drift back to one another throughout the day. Afternoon tea time often spent quietly in one another’s company. Lorna reading some weathered tome James had found aboard, while he leaned back in a chair resting. Or sat pondering his maps. If any duties kept him past the evening meal hour, on occasion she would wait to dine until he was finished. When the crew retired to their beds, most evenings would find them once again conversing around his fire. All these small moments creating a comfortable companionship that made the passing of days spent at sea a little sweeter. Light moments interspersed with times when Lorna would enter his cabin to find him wearing only the long blue shirt that barely grazed his butt cheeks and seated cross legged by his fire. The dark bands on his thighs drawing her eyes. She gave up trying to be covert about her glances. James of course never knocked but entered at will, and this ease between them bespoke of their nature as true confidants. This running of the same course an unspoken thing where they just naturally gravitated towards the other. But it was the warmth of the fire where their most intimate conversations unfolded; and it was like a compress to their spirits at the end of the day.

James would pat the floor beside him and she would come sit clad in her night shift. Her dressing wrapper open wide and long tresses unbound catching the fire glow; and James glances. Gazing into the fire while his voice spoke in low tones about the man in Africa who saved him. The things he taught him that helped him find himself, and on darker nights the things that had been done to him. His low voice would quiver and she’d cover his hand with her own, leaning into his strong shoulder. Quietly she would sit night after night while all the stories behind his scars, both seen and unseen, tumbled forth. Their bodies close, her legs sometimes stretched out over his own. The paleness of her limbs contrasting against his bronzed and tribal marked own. Sometimes asking questions when he would fold into himself; eyes lost in the flames. To balance the weight of their talks she would ask him about the animals he had seen, having one afternoon flipped through the pages of Atticus’ book and seen the note regarding elephants. Once he drew a picture of a creature called a lemur; though she questioned if he made it up. Not that it really mattered, and she kept the picture in her trunk of treasured things. 

He still couldn’t talk about what horrors had sprung from his own hand, and he suspected she artfully steered him away from such topics in her gentle way. One day they would rummage through the wreckage in his head, but for now she would sit beside him in the dark, the fire lighting both their faces; sometimes streaked with tears. Those were the nights she would rest her head on his shoulder, sharing the weight of his burdens. Until James would notice a change in her breathing and glancing down find her eyes closed as she slept against him. There were a few mornings she would awaken beside the stove grown cold, but the heat of James body close and the cover from the bed thrown over them. Despite the separate cabins, drifting back to one another became a thing as certain as the tides they sailed upon.

Late one evening James came to her room after a particularly grueling day, his mind centered on drawing out more of the mystery surrounding her. For many nights he had told her so much of himself, the flood gates impossible to close once the dam broke. Now he wanted to know everything about her. Mostly he just wanted to unwind in her company and hear her voice, even if she read poetry while he quietly sat before her. He pushed the portal open to find her asleep in the window seat. For a few moments he stood silently watching her and thinking back to when he had spent so many hours gazing out the attic window upon the Fore Shore, paying too much mind to visions in his head. Here was a vision he could watch forever. Her long hair falling in soft waves and dark lashes resting upon the creamy skin that held a faint blush. Not wishing to wake her, he tucked the blanket that had fallen to the floor about her and brushed a curl from her brow. Then exhausted he fell upon her own bed, content to just be near her. In the night he awoke to find her standing beside the bed, whispering his name. Reaching up he grasped her hand, pulling her down upon the bed beside him. Without a protest, she pulled the blanket over them and lay her head upon his chest; her hand still clasped in his own. In the dark their fingers entwined, with the beating of his heart beneath. This closeness a balm drawing out the pain he’d buried in his bones. Her touch drawing the poisoned years from his blood. Once she woke briefly and pressed her nose against the unshaven side of his neck, tilting her face up slightly when his arm pressed her closer. She wasn’t sure if she dreamed the briefest press of his lips against her own, but a tingling anticipation spread throughout her body that lingered on the morrow. When she awoke in the morning, James was gone. 

As she crossed the cabin to seek the water closet in the passageway beyond, the ship pitched suddenly to port… or was it starboard?? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the motion was so violent, Lorna found herself on her backside upon the wooden planks. Not the least concerning is that her stomach seems to be mirroring the topsy-turvy motion of the ship. Crawling upon all fours, she finally made her way to something strong and solid so that she could stand upon her feet once more. Legs braced wide as the ship seemed resolute to deposit her back on it’s floor. The bathroom trip took three times the normal amount of time, and drenched in perspiration when she finally returned, Lorna collapsed back on her bed, groaning her misery. It is there James found her several hours later, her face a sickly shade of green.

Stifling a smile, he stood braced in a wide legged stance before her prone form within the bed, while the ship bucked and pitched, “Well, we’re in the midst of a storm.”

Lorna groaned from her prone position, “Really, you don’t say? You could at least have the decency to fake a stumble.”

James, not entirely without sympathy, “Anything I can get you?”

Peeking one eye open Lorna quipped, “Dry land?”

He chuckled deep in his chest, “Well at least you still have your wit I see.”

Crossing to the bed, he nudged her over so he could sit on the edge, his hands rubbing her back in long strokes. The purr that escaped gave him brief pause, but since she truly was turning greener by the minute, he ignored his eager response to the throaty sound. He stayed until her eyes closed and her breathing grew regular. Smoothing the damp curls from her brow, he whispered softly “I had not the heart to tell you storms always get worse before they get better love.” Startled at what slipped from his lips, but seeing no response from her, he rose to quietly take his leave. Placing a bucket beside her head before he left.

The rain and rough seas continued four more days, taking its toll on the entire crew. Lorna suffered most of all, not being accustomed to sea travel. At first James and Godfrey suppressed chuckles at her misery, as she still attempted to maintain her sense of humour. But by day three when she still could not keep any food down, or barely more than a sip of water and the green tones of her skin changed to gray, James concern turned very real. The storm lasted a full week before the skies began to lighten and lessen their fury, and James spent the remainder close by her side. Alternating between the window seat where he watched the horizon closely; near several large candles where he huddled seeking his own warmth after daring the outdoors to inspect his ship and crew; or, in the bed where he curled his strength and warmth about her when she was feeling the worst. Soon it was plainly evident to all aboard their Captain definitely had a soft spot for the Lady – but it wisely went unmentioned. Especially given the mornings he is found sharing her bed when Robert, Godfrey or another crew member brings tea or broth to her cabin. 

It is during the night that calmer seas finally prevail, and James awoke to bright sunlight flooding the cabin… and Lorna’s eyes resting upon him. The rose tinted flush returning to her cheeks and he reached a finger out to caress the soft skin. Smiling back at him she nuzzled into his hand, “Was I a terrible patient?” 

She bite her lower lip, hesitant in the asking. James could only think how badly he wanted to nibble on the fullness of that bottom lip, but somehow managed to shake his head with a grunt. Such thoughts were occurring more frequently, but given that it was he who set her from him, he’s unsure how to pull her back again. Aside from the fact that he was currently in her bed of course. He spent much time of late thinking of a way to break the comfortable routine they had settled into. They had been each other's gentle calm in the midst of storms, and now he sought a small step towards exploring this magnetic pull between them.

Rolling on her back, she lamented aloud as only one born to the stage can, “Ohh, I feel wretched. Famished. Dirty. And I don’t know which one to attack first.”

James eyes rolled at her dramatic flair, but didn’t doubt there was a shred of truth behind it. “Well, food I can do something about, but the cleaning part I’ll leave to you. Unless…” Lorna’s head swung round, eyes wide at the suggestion, to find him staring intently at her. Her own eyes narrowed suspiciously and not entirely unwilling, but then something else crossed his features. “I might be able to do something about that too. I’ll be back.” And with that he vaulted over her and in three strides was out of the room.

True to his word he returned soon with a tray of food that he set on the bed with a dramatic flourish of his own that made her laugh. And then with a wink left the room once more. While she nibbled at the assorted food he’d brought, she could hear noise in the passageway again and wondered what he was up to this time? While she kept casting glances at her door, curious about the noises beyond, she looked down and with a pang of guilt realized the entire tray of food had been consumed. Shortly after, James returned announcing that the water closet was free if she wanted to tackle the other issue - making note of the empty tray - now that the first was settled. With a hint of a blush, Lorna nodded and grabbing her essentials, dashed past him to the room at the end of the passage. When she walked in, she stopped suddenly in utter amazement, for there in the room was a huge washing tub – the hot steam rising in wispy curls to the ceiling above. The room was lit with several large candles, casting a soft glow about the darkened interior. With positive glee she stripped free of her clothing and stepped into the steaming liquid, a contented sigh escaping. Piling her hair high on top of her head in a knot, she leaned back and let the soothing warmth do it’s magic.

She was enjoying the delicate scent of a bar of soap. Gliding it over the sweaty grime of her arm, watching the trail of bubbles it left behind; when suddenly the door opened and in walked James with a new tray of food in one hand, and a bottle of wine and two glasses in the other. She sat still as stone in the tub, eyes widened in horror at this casual entry. Shrinking down beneath the water as low as she could while he set the tray on the nearby table. However, rolling waves under a boat and a tub full of water do not make for a steady water line. It dawned on her why boats do not normally have bath tubs as she constantly shifted her position to keep her bare breasts beneath the rocking water. Filling one glass with wine, James walked over to the tub edge and handed it to her; his eyes doing a slow, thorough rake down the length of her before once again meeting her gaze. Speechless, she accepted the glass and drank half the contents in one swallow. James simply turned back to grab the bottle and replenished her glass once more, before filling his own, and then leaning casually against the washing stand.

“Can you believe it was down in the bowels of the ship buried under old canvas?”

She shook her head, eyes still wide over the rim of the wine glass. “I cannot… believe…” her voice trailed off as she gulped another large sip of the wine. 

“The night when the storm hit, you remember I came to your cabin?”

 _And he’s still here… and still talking?_ Lorna’s head shakes once again, lips compressed in a tight line. She always knew James wasn’t much for social etiquette, but this was a surprise even for him. This was the kind of familiarity reserved between husbands and wives and most of the time, not even then. But, lover’s maybe? She swallowed another gulp of the robust red. A blush not attributed to the heat of the water crept up her face. A lady’s bath was a private, nay sacred thing! It suddenly dawned on her that James was still prattling on about that night… or was it the storm? Or, she has no idea, until she hears Robert’s name.

“What… wait... Robert?”

James slanted his head to the side, picking up the wine once more and coming closer to refill her glass. She made a mental note to stop drinking the wine so fast, at the same time that she took inventory of any bubbles from her soap wash. How long do bubbles last anyway? Cholmondeley would probably know. He could probably create a bubble that lasted hours. Hell, now she had the chemist in her head and this bathroom was getting too damn crowded.

“…. Anyway I was wondering how he was faring in the school work, but you were asleep when I arrived…”

“James?”

His speech halted mid sentence while raising a curious brow; mildly put out at her interruption. Indeed she seemed completely unfocused. He should slow down on her wine refills. He shrugged complacently as if to say _what?!_

“James!! I’m a bit indisposed would you not say?” Her questioning look saying that she really shouldn’t have to be raising such a question.

“Perhaps we could arrange a more suitable time to discuss this matter? When I’m a little less… wet?”

He glanced as if seeing the tub for the first time. His gaze making note of the pale line of her collarbones above the water line, and the gentle curve of her throat. The way a few hairs have escaped the high knot and curl about her neck and face. The flush upon her cheeks and the faintest hint of wine stain on her lips. Fascinated by the beads of sweat upon her brow that linger briefly before they surrender to the sloping lines of her cheek, then drop to her chest, to be swept away once more down the barest visible curve of her breasts before being lost in the depths of the tub. He watched several on their journey down her wet flesh. And then it fully hits him, _fuck that’s a lot of wet flesh_ and he feels the twitch in his pants. Maybe his gaze has lingered too long. But damn if he’s never wanted to take a bath so badly in his entire life.

True to form he merely grunted a reply and tossing a _hurry up then_ over his shoulder, opened the door to make his exit. He doesn’t see her exaggerated eye roll at his back, but of course she’s not letting him have the last word.

“James, you might consider a soak at some point too.”

He paused in the doorway. A twisted smile playing about the corners of his mouth. _Well, probably not quite meant as an invitation,_ but he’s not letting the chance to shake things up from their comfortable routine slip away. Turning about, he kicked his boots into a corner and strode towards the tub, his eyes holding her own. Picking up his wine glass along the way before stepping over the edge and plunking himself down at the opposite end. Fully clothed he settled himself against the curved back, sending water splashing over the edge onto the floor. There’s not a chance of maintaining that water line coverage now. Glancing up at her horrified face, he grunted something that sounds like “hhhmmmm, is nice.”

He noticed she had lost her wine glass in favour of covering her modesty, as the water slops and splashes about from his unceremonious entry. Reaching under the water his hands roamed about – foot, calf, knee, thigh… aha wine glass! He dried it off with a nearby towel and retrieved the bottle from the the table; refilling the glass and holding it before her. Her gaze slid back and forth from his own, to the glass, to where her hands are covering her breasts. He waited silently for her to make the call. 

Sliding one arm across the expanse of her chest, she finally grasped the newly filled wine glass, but still cast a dubious glance in his direction, slipping a little further down into the water. Which only brought her small feet in close contact with his pelvis. James reached down under the water and settled her feet upon his lap. Then she watched, head tilted and eyes narrowed, amazed to find him splashing water on his head and face like some duck in a pond. But this is James: wild and free. Though it stretched her comfort limit to the absolute maximum end of the scale, she wouldn’t want him any other way. Her expression probably still registered more than a smidgen of shock, but she found it necessary to hide a half smile behind the rim of the wine glass when their gaze met across the rising steam. 

Stretching himself out, James tucked his longer, pant covered legs around her arms and holding her gaze, continued where he had left off before being so rudely interrupted, “I was discussing the boys’ schooling, but I really had come that night to hear more about you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You so know James totally would! ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me one thing that is not just a matter of time?  
> What is brought together; let no one tear apart.

Just over a week had passed since they had shared a bottle of wine, a soak, and her story of becoming an actress. Though their fire chats continued with more familiar touches often punctuating their words, he still had barely scratched the surface of all that was her. An unspoken hurt as yet to be uprooted that he guessed was the secret to both her strength and her heart. He sensed it was the reason behind her marriage to his father; a marriage that it seems was not a marriage at all; a fact that did little to help restore his father to any good standing. It was becoming clear that Horace had likely used her and that it was directly related to his will, and specifically to securing Nootka Sound - and how much she was aware, or even willing in this regard remained unseen. However, she never spoke ill of his father; a fact that only cemented her absolute loyalty to the Delaney name in his mind. As he studied her profile caught in the fire glow, letting the melodic sound of her voice wash over him, he wondered if his father ever fully understood the real treasure he had acquired. 

If the air around the two of them cracked before their shared tub, in the weeks that followed, it sparked enough now to light an entire room. The hidden inferno that was building inside them had now reached up to ignite their smiles. An electric pulse that energized their bodies and pulsed intimacy into their body language. This gathering storm all could see building on the horizon, but with no notion of when it would break, the tension seeped into everyone around them. James’ odd band of half family, half misfits were enjoying a group dinner that lasted late into the evening. In addition to seeing many empty bottles of Delaney rum strewn about the ship's’ mess hall, the flames of the fire that connected them leapt out in every glance and touch, and nothing went unnoticed among those gathered. At one point, while reciting some rather risqué Restoration drama lines with Cholmondeley, her flair and quick wit on display, both admiration and desire blazed unrestrained on his face as James sat in his chair. Dizzy from wine and lost in a Shakespeare soliloquy, she spun about and came to rest upon James lap, his arms circling just under her breasts before he could halt them. His mouth dipped down to just graze the bared spot where her shoulder met her collarbone, Lorna turning her face to lean against his head. The contact was brief, but there was a collective intake of breath resulting in a sudden hush about the room. Just as suddenly, James pushed her away from him and she continued on as though never missing a beat. Atticus turned to French Bill beside him and leaning close quipped, “God I hope they just fuck soon and get it over with. I can’t stand this tension much longer with only one whore aboard.” French Bill just nodded quietly in agreement, more interested in the main course before him. 

As the evening progressed the tipsy crew members graduated to more ribald songs and stories, and Lorna casting a glance at James, indicated it was time for her to take her leave. The last place a beautiful woman wants to be is in a room with drunk and horny sailors. Especially if she is the only woman since Pearle had been otherwise engaged most of the evening. Although certainly, none would have dared anything in James’ presence. Even still, the night had turned far too “manly” for her tastes, and bending to Godfrey’s ear she quietly asked him to see her to her room. James watched the two slip away, grateful there was at least one man on board he could trust with this precious cargo. He’d been sitting somewhat uncomfortably in his chair since feeling the effects of her perky ass on his crotch. The urge to go to her was the strongest he’d ever felt, and with his head swimming in rum the excuses to remain were slowly slipping away one by one. A cheer sounded among the crew when he finally rose and exited the room.

The candles were burning low in her cabin while she and Godfrey huddled upon the window seat enjoying a final night cap. Over the weeks their friendship had grown quite close - James being a common topic. If Lorna thought it weird to be sharing her dressing routine and make up with a man from time to time, Godders was grateful she kept it well hidden. But he suspected she didn’t give a whit about such things anyway. Tonight it was the revelry below and whether one particular sailor will have drank enough liquid courage to finally show his … um… hand to Godders. Their loud laughter carried out into the passageway and reached James as he rather stumbled toward her door. Which suddenly was kicked open. Of course.  
Lorna gasped in fright, but it’s still less shrill than Godders own squeal and James visibly hunched his shoulders to escape the sound.

“Fuck the two of you will blow the window out. Although I suspect Godders here has his eye on something…” he leaned in off kilter towards the man, “or maybe someone else to blow" The leer on his face probably not intended to be as insanely funny as it looks, and the two staring wide eyed cannot contain their mirth.

“Whoo, look who’s stumbling in here well in his cups and making jealous accusations.” Godders batted his eyes in an exaggerated manner and James feigned insult in return. “Honestly James, have you come with pure intentions yourself…” Lorna clamped a hand over Godders mouth, but still could not halt her laughter. 

“The only clear thing is that the two of you are horribly drunk.”

The two men exchanged glances, but it’s only James that shrugged, “Yes, I am.” Though he sent a definite _shouldn’t you be leaving_ look in Godders’ direction. Straightening his wig, he took the cue and exited the room singing some silly song about _what do you do with a drunken sailor_ ; his voice carrying on down the passageway and up to the main deck.

Once her laughter ceased, Lorna walked over to the door and held it open, “It’s very late James… and I do believe I’ve had quite enough for one night as well.”

James walked over and stood by the window bench, his back to the window. She’s right of course, he’s perhaps a tad inebriated to be propositioning her tonight – but he doesn’t want to leave either. 

“James?” She remained holding the door.

“Lorna?” He remained by the bench, both a statement and a plea in his voice. 

Uncertain as to his mood, she waited for him to expand upon his thoughts. Hesitant to close the space between them as the idea of the night leading in a direction they might regret on the morrow flirted about the edges of her mind. But as she stood there, that invisible thread pulled taut and with the heat in his gaze it was impossible for her to feign indifference. Emotions swirled about the small room and anticipation settled like dust upon their skin. Tonight there would be no sweeping it away. His booted steps a drum beat in time with the hammering of her heart as he crossed the distance between them and stood before her, his gaze never wavering. Leaning close, he took one hand in his own, felt her pulse quicken under his thumb as it lightly traced the inside of her wrist. Eyes dipping briefly to the rise of her chest when her breath caught, then lifting to discover the searching and wanting within her own. His fingers wrapped around her slender ones as he stepped closer, pressing his forehead to hers and squeezed his eyes shut tight. Willing his mind to remain quiet and still, while he felt the tremble course through her body. 

Her hands traveled the length of his arms and came to rest on either side of his head, holding him fast. One hand pressed upon his cheek, a finger briefly touching the scar below his eye. A shallow breath. Slanting his head to the side, he saw it in her eyes. That this heat was always coming; casting its light through the vapours of his mind. She had stroked her own sacred spells upon him; igniting the flames that danced above his numbness. Now the moment had arrived, tender and fervent, and he had never felt more locked in the present. His lips trailed across the curve of her cheek, savouring the moment before crossing this hallowed bridge between them. His thoughts tumbling as he searched for words, contrasted with the stillness of his heart and the potency of their gaze. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then the lips were the same for the body. This urge to feel hers no longer a passing thing. This seed of love had always been written in their gaze. 

“Tell me one thing that is not just a matter of time.”

Lorna’s lips parted and the barest whisper of his name almost slipped between them when his mouth claimed hers and stole the words before she could speak them. Her entire body flushed with heat. Liquid warmth traveling through her veins as his mouth slanted across her own. Slowly and softly ghosting upon her lips, keeping the fireworks from bursting out of control.

_A kiss is but a prologue to a play._

It’s a beginning, and a promise of more to come and somehow deeper than anything he’s ever felt. This wave of warmth that spreads and invades every cell in his body. Spilling from his heart and coiling in every corner until he is saturated in the taste and feel of her. His hands tangled in her hair, pressing lightly into the back of her head, deepening the kiss. Every sense flooded with the feel of her lips opening up and responding to him in full measure. Pulling back to search her gaze, the sounds of yelling from above reached them, but they tuned out the world and turned back to one another.

A smoldering heat grew as he deepened the kiss, capturing her mouth this time with no teasing play but a fiery takeover that finally ignited the sparks to bursting. James yanked her into his arms, his mouth greedily devouring her own, swallowing a moan while her hands clutched his short hair, tugging him closer. Pressing her back against the door, while she arched fully into him, and his hands traveled up her spine coaxing more shivers. Lorna savoured the flavor of the rum on his tongue and drank deeply of all he gave. The kiss all raw intensity and rapid pulses, James crushing her so close there’s no air in her lungs. Instead she breathed him in and the world above fell away. 

Electricity danced along her skin when he trailed his lips down the slim column of her throat. Drawing back, he searched her eyes once again. Saw her whole being lit from within, and for the first time in his life, he knew it was because of him. The love that burned within searing into the depths of his soul. A fire of furious flame and noise; but that gave just the right amount of welcoming warmth. His fingers glided down a pale cheek and along the laugh line, coming to light gently on lips swollen by his passion. They were mirrors and echoes of one another. She had reached inside of him with such ease; stoking his passions and extinguishing his storms. Heart in his throat, he kissed her so gently she thought she would break in two to see him be so tender, when she knew the darkness that also crouched inside. Weeks of longing to nibble her bottom lip now realized, with a groan he pulled her into the full circle of his arms, while her own wove around to clasp around his neck. James lifted her body against his own, their breath catching in unison. He could sense her smile in the dark, and the soft sigh she released melted his heart. His lips finding hers again, probing, melding, and whispering his need upon their mingled breath…

Suddenly, the moment was broken by a piercing scream and the erupting sound of gunfire from above. James’ head snapped up, his body instantly alert. Pulling her through the door and across the hall into his own cabin, where he quickly grabbed his pistols. Turning around to find Lorna heading back to her own room, he quickly grabbed her by an arm.

“James, my gun is in…”

“Look at me.” Her eyes were wide with fear, but he loved that she was charging in with him. Except, the hell she was not. “Stay here. Lock the door. Do not leave.” 

She opened her mouth to protest and he kissed her quickly, apprehension chasing away any gentleness, but she clung to it still. Drawing back he saw the defiant tilt to her chin, but he gave her no time for further protest heading straight for the door. The last thing she heard was the “lock it” command and the sound of his steps running down the passageway and up the stairs.

When James reached the main deck, he faced a full volley of armed invaders aboard his ship. Pearle already standing in chains, her lip dripping blood upon her dress. Most of his men stood weaving drunkenly, and more worrisome, unarmed. Resistance at this point was futile. A swarthy looking man of impossible height approached him.

“Aye, welcome to our little boarding party Captain. Nice of you join us.” He tipped his hat in mock salute and James simply stared calmly back. “Anyone else that should be joining us Captain?”

James shook his head back and forth slowly.

The pirate shook his head and gave the command, “Right then. Search the ship lads.”

And James’ heart sank to his feet.

He heard the sound of the door being broken in from below. A scream that tore at his gut and almost made his knees buckle. Then watched, his face impassive belying the inner turmoil, as Lorna was dragged up from the galley below, her long red tresses coiled in the brute’s fist. Gaining the top step she stumbled and fell, her eyes squinting closed in pain, though she still managed to spit a string of curses at the man who proceeded to drag her across the deck. Her legs kicking and hands clawing as though some feral cat upon a much larger foe, and she almost won her release, the man struggled such to maintain his grip upon her. Gaining her feet with her chin raised in defiance, though the man’s fist twisted tighter among the curls, pulling her up against his stronger form. His heavily accented snarl directed at James, where he stood with legs braced wide, a deathly stare centered upon the man.

“Surrender your cargo, or I will hurt your woman in ways you cannot even fathom.”

Little did he know just how much James could fathom, but therein also lay the source of the fear which had knotted in his gut. James shifted his stance, eyes narrowed dangerously, careful to avert his eyes from Lorna’s own. It might have been a struggle to do so, had she not been preoccupied with pushing against her captor’s chest and clawing at his face.

“There’s nothing you can possibly do that will hurt me.”

_Fuck_. Despite his fear for her, his heart actually swelled with pride. 

A moment later, the backhand sent her sprawling to the ship's deck, and James took an involuntary step forward before he could halt it. With some ease of mind, he noticed the three men at his side had moved the same. But it was Robert who moved to place himself between her prone body and the menacing pirate. His small feet firmly planted and his eyes casting daggers at the larger man. Lorna reached up to push him aside, but he would not be moved. Her voice pleaded, while the blood ran down her chin.

“I will not away.”

Her heart constricted to hear the Shakespeare line she had only days prior performed for him, repeated in his shrill young voice. Her eyes finally lifted, seeking James, and he heard the echo of her thoughts as if she spoke them aloud.

_I would do it again._

He moved to grab the boy by the elbow and pulled him back against his own chest, trying to cease the glancing blows aimed at him. One landed upon his shoulder, bring a true grunt of pain, but he held tight. His eyes briefly dipped back to Lorna’s and that current between them snapped and crackled, an understanding only felt by them.

“Come now lad. No need to risk your life for one of the whores. There will be plenty more to find when we reach port.”

Lorna’s face remained blank. The pirate was not so easily swayed though.

“A whore you say? My, my, must be one of them fancy one’s I hear about. A most favoured trick indeed to be sitting in the Captain’s cabin sipping her brandy.”

It took all his willpower for James to offer no response; his eyes remaining a blank stare. A wiser man might have seen the darkness and violence that swam in those depths, but he was too preoccupied with the treasure he had claimed. Lorna was once again yanked to her feet, this time by the front of her dress. The tear of ripping fabric akin to a thunder clap amidst the silence. 

“I guess you won’t mind us sampling such a worthy piece for ourselves then, eh?”

He tossed a coin at James, who never broke his glare and it landed with a clang upon the wooden planks. Though panic was rising within him, except for the subtle flare of his nostrils, he betrayed no emotion. Simply spread his hands in front of himself and gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. His breath held while the man continued to paw the creamy skin now revealed for his pleasure. Skin that James had recently glimpsed himself, and which had become a new haunting in his dreams. 

“Aye, she’ll fetch a fair piece on the auction block fer sure.”

The crack of her hand connecting with the man’s face broke the silence. Inwardly he groaned, but his love expanded within his chest at her unrelenting spirit and courage. The full realization of that admission arriving now, an actual pain in his chest. _Damn if she was not a worthy prize._ He couldn’t even blame the man for noticing the truth. Facing all the outnumbered guns, he faced another truth:

They would take her.

And he didn’t feel so careless about the fact this time. A deep dread spread through his body and landed in his stomach like burning coal. Finally he met her gaze. She stood so proud and defiant with her shoulders straight, hair all twisted and flying about her calm face … and so fucking beautiful his heart squeezed in his chest. Resigned to the inevitable as she held his gaze. She knew. But what was more impressive was that she was willing.

And all he could do was watch her go.

As they pushed her over the side of the ship, he stood waiting in desperation for one final glance. His mind thought back to the last time she had been taken from him. How he had reassured her that he would be with her and she would know it. With all the confusion that had taken root in the dark recesses of his mind, he doubted his ability to be that for her once again. Or if he ever was at all. A wave of despair washed over him, even as his mind still called out to her. At the last second, as her leg swung over the side, her head raised and the liquid pools of brown sought his own worried gaze. Her hand raised and two fingers pressed upon her lips. And once again he heard her voice clear as any spoken word.

_I can still feel you._

He knew the truth of her words as surely as he felt it himself. There was a place she had touched with her love no one else got close to. Even when she disappeared over the side, James knew he would still feel her just as close as his own skin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: necessary evil unfolds, blood, mayhem, torture, violence: basically James is hella pissed. 
> 
> James handles an enemy and Lorna makes a friend, and all learn not to mess with a Delaney.

He had been pacing the deck of the ship for several minutes. Like a wild animal released from its cage with all the pent up frustration and anger now unleashed; looking for something to sink its teeth into. Many of the crew had suspected his feelings for Mrs. Delaney might be more taboo than familial, and here was the proof. For no one on board fully believed his menacing temper only concerned missing barrels of gunpowder. It seemed as though Hell itself coiled inside just waiting for its’ doors to open. Words they did not know dropped from his lips. Anyone who dared enter his space, quickly retreated when those dead eyes fixed upon them. Only the gentle Godfrey seemed able to evade the beast within and draw James forth. Though his responses were mostly of a guttural growl. 

The scent of blood still hung thick as the night fog that rolled in off the sea. As sure as it still dripped from the knife he held tight in the fists clenched at his sides. Rash like dots splattered upon his face. Red tinged illusions danced before him within the mist. Calling to him. Most of the crew still reeling from the sight of him dragging the traitorous sailor who had “fallen asleep” on his night watch across the deck; via the wicked curved blade thrust in his gut. If the there was one thing James Keziah Delaney would not tolerate, it was betrayal. His rage permeated the night air as he came to stand over the still moaning man; gutted upon the floor and his blood seeping into the roughened planks. Trying desperately to crawl away from this Devil that had set upon him. The blade slashed down across the tendons on his lower leg and his primal scream pierced the night. Even Atticus felt the chill upon the back of his neck. Swiping his hands across his eyes, and then in front of him as though swatting unseen apparitions, James once more stabbed the blade into the man’s flesh. The sound of blade on bone a satisfactory tone mingling with the ghosts that screamed in his head. The crimson red spread mingled with scenes of torture that scanned behind his eyelids. He dragged the man towards the plank of the ship, then withdrew his knife before walking over to a pile of rope which lay coiled on the deck. The strange words passing like venomous spit from his lips as he proceeded to wrap the ropes tightly about his legs. Then with a final grunt, James kicked his bloody and mutilated body over-board; stepping back as the line played out and then pulled taut. A good old fashioned keelhaul to finish his life, and send the message regarding loyalty loud and clear to all. 

His pacing resumed, eyes wild and ringed with blood, sweat and if one stood close enough, tears. He came to a sudden stop before the chemist. Cholmondeley lifted his scarred face; his eyes knowing the question before it was even asked. 

_So, she is yours._

“How big a boom do you want?”  
“Whatever you can make for me … and quickly.” 

The chemist turned and darted towards the galley steps, grabbing the boy as he passed. 

Godfrey approached once more, daring to meet the devil eyes that turned upon him.  
“James, time is passing quickly. If we want the lady unspoiled, we must move soon. I have a plan…. There’s a price on your head. It would be a good bargaining …. ” James cold glare turned to him, a tilt of his head as he considered the unfinished thought. 

“James? We are wasting time.”

He was set back upon his heels quickly when James suddenly turned and strode past him to another crew member who had also been on watch during the fateful boarding. As the first’ dead man’s relief, his own life had been spared, but now he stood shaking as if the hounds of hell had been released to set upon him. James grabbed him by the shirt lapels and hauled him off his feet, his rage painted face inches from his own.

“I have a use for you.”  
~  
Lorna clung to the sides of the small boat with her head hanging between her legs cursing the waves that set the craft into a rolling pitch. The last thing she needed now was the contents of her stomach heaving, for surely any sign of weakness would be flaunted by these men. A sense of gloom permeated her spirit; cold fingers that crept into her bones as the damp of the sea into the timber of the vessel that carried them. Lifting her eyes she scanned the horizon, receiving a full wave of salty spray in her face, its cold a stinging slap upon the skin of her cheeks. Mingling with the taste of the rum she could still feel on her lips from James kiss. Her eyes squeezed shut, grasped the memory of his mouth moving on her own, while her stomach flipped anew and the tears rolled down her face. Despair was a kind of blackness and she would not linger in its void. Neither would grief bleed from her bones. Today was not a good day to die at sea. She had always walked in light and truth, and now; perhaps love traveled alongside too. Hope hung balanced on the edge, and just maybe … sometimes the road to Heaven could look a lot like Hell. Rubbing her chilled fingers upon her lips, a familiar scent drifted upon the ocean breeze and arriving with it an even chiller thought: she could use a little hell right now.  
~  
The huge beast of hulking, rusted metal and peeling, painted wood rose up out of the sea like an ancient monster. Its masts reaching up to the night sky and sails billowing like clouds upon the breeze. Lorna stood on the main deck, seemingly temporarily forgotten as the pirates unloaded whatever bounty they had pilfered from James’ ship. Though she noted a few unsavory glances cast in her direction from equally unsavory men. One in particular stood apart from the rest, as he casually leaned against a wooden beam, his eyes raking her form from head to toe. A smirk twitched beneath his carefully groomed mustache, and when he noticed her gaze upon him, he replied with a slow wink. When she shrugged her shoulders and raised her chin in a haughty pose, a chuckle escaped and he tipped his hat in appreciation of her brave defiance. Something about the man’s familiar regard, caused an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, yet she could not resist returning a glance. He was almost dashing, having not the typical looks of a buccaneer, but rather an appealing face and form in how he carried himself more the gentleman. Indeed, he almost looked clean, Lorna thought with some amusement. As they studied each other across the ship’s deck, another pirate stepped into her view. Truthfully she should have smelt this one before seeing him. His hands immediately were upon her, and she noted over his shoulder that the Gentleman Pirate straightened; eyes instantly aware. 

“Aye wot we got ‘ere lads? A fine piece of booty we claimed.” His haggard face with skin thick and creased by age and sun, and eyes dark as rum peered into her own. A foul stench emitted from his person. A rotting from deep within, even beyond the yellowed and blackened teeth bared via the lopsided grin that twisted his bearded mouth. The underlying notes drenched in evil purpose. The rising sun glinted off his bald head and the large gold hoop earring in one ear. She tried to ignore how it also caught the hilt of the sword at his side. His large, meaty hands grabbed about her waist, pulling her up against his filthy form.

“Come on luv, give ole Jake a taste ‘o yer pleasure, eh?”

Her hands pushed against the solid bulk of his chest, as her face twisted away from the grotesque sight of his mouth reaching for her own. His strong fingers cruelly digging into her soft flesh as he tried to hold her within in his arms, bending her body back so that she feared she might snap in two. Her own fingers clawed at his face in desperation and she smiled with satisfaction at his howl of pain when she drew blood down the side of one grizzled cheek. He shoved her body upon the deck and barely pausing he advanced with a raised fist.

A glint of sun on metal and the ring of a sword leaving its scabbard gave the menacing pirate pause, and both he and Lorna gazed up at the Gentleman Pirate who now stood with feet braced and sword raised. The tip of which rested just inches from her tormentor's chest. His gaze held the other pirates' in an unwavering challenge. 

“Claimed.”

From her prone position on the deck, Lorna noticed that a hush had come over the ship and all were watching the unfolding action with great interest. The pirate who had mishandled her person opened a mouth to protest, but chatter from the other pirates seemed to illicit a very speedy change of heart in this matter. 

“Aye Jakey, ya sure the wench be worth meeting _Bonny Wylie’s_ blade?” 

Jake stepped back into a mock bow before his challenger, who with a nod sheathed his sword, and then stepped past to roughly grab Lorna by the elbow, hauling her to her feet. Immediately he half escorted, half dragged her across the deck towards the ladder leading to the second deck; the riotous cheers of his fellow pirates following into the darkness below.

“Aye, Bonny Wylie, ya don’t want to be wastin’ any time in mounting that one! Y’all be spending’ more time with yer sword in hand than yer dick to fight off all who seek to follow ya.” 

Their loud catcalls continued above as he led Lorna down a narrow passage way and stopping before a door, yanked it open and tossed her inside. Lorna quickly scrambled to regain her footing, eyes searching wildly about for anything to use as a weapon. Upon a small bedside table an apple core rested with a small knife protruding from it’s browning skin. She grabbed it and faced the pirate; shoulders squared resolute to not surrender without a good fight. Bonny Wylie leaned casually just inside the closed door as an amused chuckle rumbled within his chest. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at his casual acceptance of the situation. _Was he so confident?_ Holding the rotten apple core in her other hand, while brandishing the knife, she calmly spoke. 

“If you mean to auction me, you won’t get much of a price if you spoil me.”

His head shook back and forth as he slowly raked over her once again, and she felt a nervous fear begin to form as a knot in her stomach. He folded his arms across his chest, unmindful of the small knife she held before him.

“You know, I can’t decide if you remind me more of Beatrice, or Rosalind right now? In truth you excel at both portrayals.” 

Lorna’s head slanted slightly at the crisp, cultured manner of his speech, not to mention the Shakespearean heroine references; both of which she had portrayed on the London stage. But how would he know…?

“Of course it was easily your Viola which won my heart. Tell me Lorna dear, is there a brave and loyal sea Captain coming to your rescue?”  
Recognition suddenly dawned on Lorna at the mention of her name. Immediately she dropped the knife and stepped towards the man who looked so much the part of a pirate, she had not recognized the skilled actor beneath the ensemble. The highly trained swordsman often employed to teach actors the necessary skill for fighting scenes appeared to have taken up the fight for real. 

“William?! What the hell…” She embraced the man quickly. “Never have I been so glad to see anyone in my entire life. Indeed, quite the change of profession!” 

“Sword for hire my dear. It pays much better than Convent Garden.” He took a step towards her and his face suddenly took a pained look, “Speaking of performances, we are going to have to make this look real my dear. You’d better scream. Make it the performance of your life, or we will forfeit both of ours.”

Lorna squared her shoulders, took a deep inhale, and let loose a blood curdling scream that carried throughout the ship, causing those aboard to momentarily pause. William grabbed her by the shoulders, his face full of remorse, “I’m sorry, but this is where the cold, hard slap of reality intrudes upon the stage my dear. Ready?”

Lorna braced herself, knowing her willingness crucial to them both getting out of this alive, and nodded her head. Although nothing can really prepare one for a solid punch to the face. After the blow, William pulled her into his arms, muttering apologies over and over, while she bite back the tears. Pulling back she meet his gaze, as his fingers grazed the already purple and swelling mark upon her cheekbone. Together they tore bits of fabric from her dress, and he pressed fingers deeply into her arms, the bruising vivid on her pale skin almost immediately. Of course she forgave him already. He was risking his own life in protecting her; and though she was aware that he was greatly enamored by her during their time at the theatre, she sensed that there was no ulterior motive. She reached for his forearm. 

“There is a sea Captain, though he is as dark and brooding as a duke might be.” She raised watering eyes to his. “And when he comes, Hell will follow.”

William nodded in understanding, taking in her disheveled and manhandled appearance and feeling a twist of fear within his own gut.  
“Well, let’s hope he’s as forgiving as you my dear.” Rummaging through a trunk, he grabbed a coil of thick rope. “No one will bother you as long as you are in here, but just to make it look real.” He wound the cords about her wrists, his eyes carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. “If a need arises, just scream and I will come. I won’t be far.” 

As he bound both her hands in a thick rope, Lorna refused to meet his gaze. The last image of James recalled in her mind, even as she still felt the soft pressure of his lips upon her own. The cold steel within his gaze as she was led away blotting out other more tender memories. The silent stance that hide the dark rage she knew broiled within him. It wasn’t so much that Lorna didn’t believe the rumours regarding the _savage_ James Keziah Delaney. It was that she simply didn’t care. At least not when faced with present circumstances. She knew as sure as the tides upon the shore that he would come, and that it would be a zero sum that shadowed him. 

Zero warning. Zero compassion. Zero second chances. 

She watched as William _Bonnie Wylie_ closed the door quietly behind him, and sat upon the edge of the narrow cot. Reaching towards the small table, she grabbed the small knife and hid it under her skirts. Bound wrists already aching as she rested them upon her slightly shaking knees. Desperate to feel that warmth spreading through her body once more, she closed her eyes and thought of him. As her back straightened, the spark fired within her eye. His revenge would not only be cold; it would be absolute. Her fingers traced the sharp blade, drawing a single drop of blood, and the crooked smile briefly flashed. She would be ready. It was only a matter of time. 

Across the sea, James stood braced at the bow of his ship as it pursued the pirates; eyes searching the distant horizon. A faraway look in his eye that offered no clue as to the thoughts in his head. Had one looked closely enough, they would have seen the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

_Yes, it’s only a matter of time._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which James demonstrates his military strategy and things go Boom. Revenge comes swift, and his prize is in sight, but will the dashing William relinquish Lorna without a fight of his own? Which flames burn hotter - love, or envy?

As the hours tick by, fear became a constant hammer in her head. The ache in her wrists from the rope bind digging into her soft flesh, and the clenching of her fists a painful, but welcoming reminder that she was not yet paralyzed. She chose instead to embrace this prickling fear, allowing it to wake her up to what still needed to be done. There was very little noise heard beyond the cabin walls and she assumed that many were sleeping off the nights pilfering adventure. Her mind toyed often with the idea of escape - but, to where? How? There were too many unknown variables. Laying back upon the cot with a weary sigh, she cursed this slow passage of time; willing it to speed up, or at least offer some worthy distraction. But time keeps its own time. And so she waited. Until waiting gradually drifted into restless slumber.

~

Back on his ship James was pacing relentlessly. As if the constant motion of his limbs could somehow keep the anxiety away. His body hummed with energy, and everyone gave him a wide berth; as though there was enough voltage coursing through him that a touch would sufficiently kill. He knew nothing else other than to breathe, walk and desperately contemplate a plan that would see Lorna safely returned – preferably into his arms – and still manage to keep them all alive. To others he seemed a caged tiger. The worry he meant to hide replacing the usual stoic mask. Yet he was never more keenly aware of things: the wind on his face, the warmth of the sun, the hurried preparation that continued around him; than when time was of the essence. 

Pausing, James squinted into the overhead sun, willing it to seek its rest a little earlier this day. The cover of darkness would be their ally. Hopefully a calm sea. Pulling his hat down a little further over his eyes, he scanned the horizon, the never-ending merger of blue on blue revealing nothing to his naked eye. His glance shifted to the sailor in the crow’s nest and saw the spyglass raised to his own eyes; ensuring the pirate ship was always within sight. They kept their own distance just shy of causing the bandits any concern. For now. Though James was no fool to think that they did not expect a retaliation. Fear twisted within his gut and his pacing resumed. Dread the invisible demon that perched on his shoulder; whispering into his ear so that it might own his thoughts. Its voice cackled, telling his legs to go weak, his stomach to turn to lead, and his heart to ache. If he just kept moving. Kept that adrenaline pumping – he could silence its voice. So he willed his legs to keep walking, his stomach to cease fluttering… but no matter how much deck he had to pace upon; the ache in his heart would not be silenced.

~

The touch brought her fully awake in an instant. Eyes trying to adjust to the darkened cabin. Bound hands raised to ward off whatever evil intended to place its mark upon her. Her breath hitched inward in preparation for a screaming release, but as her eyes focused on the figure bent over her prone form, it fizzled into a pitiful warble.

“No, no my dear… do let those lungs expand. It will be most convincing.”

William’s handsome features set aglow as he lit the wall lamp, and Lorna noted the tray of food he had set on the table. He reached for her bound hands and pulled her up to sitting on the edge of the cot, as he unwound the rope cord from her wrists. The red welts vivid upon her pale skin.

“Ouch, sorry for that love. Didn’t mean to make it so tight.” 

He reached for one hand, gently rubbing his fingers over the raised, reddened marks; his eyes lifting to meet her gaze. Lorna returned his gaze briefly, and then eyes averting, withdrew her hand. Pushing herself back slightly upon the cot to create some distance between them, she lightly rubbed the feeling back into her hands.

“Ahhh, I see. This Captain comes to claim a prize already won, doesn’t he?” 

He took a seat on the lone chair in the room, stretching his long legs out so that they encompassed her own within the small space. Lorna’s eyes lifted, but it was a subtle glared warning that rested within those warm pools.

“And what if I don’t want to relinquish you, my dear? Tell me, how’s your Captain with a sword?”

Her eyes narrowed, “I think you play your part too well _Bonnie Wylie_. For the William I knew would never act less than the gentleman.”

He loosed a snorted chuckle, head nodding, “Aye yes, I suppose I have been at this game rather too long now. My manners in the presence of a lady do tend to falter.” He spread his hands wide in a mocking bow. “Surely you cannot blame me, or act surprised my dear. I’ve always thought you a most worthy prize.” 

“Is that why you claimed me from the other. To press the advantage yourself?” Her hand rested upon her leg, felt the sharp edge of the knife hidden beneath. “I am at your mercy.”

His laughter rang loud in the enclosed space, and he slapped his knees in feigned insult, “For shame Lorna! Is that what you think I am capable of? That I could do such a deplorable act? I assure you, I am not that kind of pirate.” He stood up and crossed to lean against the wall, his eyes studying the floor. “A man just likes to know where he stands sometimes.” He glanced back at her, a shrug of his shoulders. “You can’t blame a man for trying. Surely your Captain would do as much to win your favour.”

It was Lorna’s turn to laugh out loud. Considering the path of her and James relationship. Meeting William’s confused expression, she could only offer her own nonchalant shrug.

“We are rather a living example of _the course of true love not running smooth I think._ ” 

“But, it _is_ love?” He may have held his breath while waiting her reply.

Lorna brows knitted as she pondered the question; unsure how much to admit to him. Or maybe to herself. 

“It’s a bit hard to define at the moment. It’s new. And unexpected.” She lifted her gaze to stare blankly at the wall in front of her. “I can’t answer for him… but for me,” this time she met William’s gaze, knowing the man deserved the truth of her heart, “Yes. I do love him. But… I haven’t told him as yet either.”

William crossed back to sit upon the chair, holding the tray of food before her before selecting his own portion. “Well, my dear. As someone who once longed to hear those very words from your lips, I can only assume if he is a man of any intelligence, not to mention desire…..we can probably expect him any minute.” 

“And you won’t try to fight him? Or do him harm once he arrives?”

William placed a hand over his heart. “No, and you have my word on that.”  
Lorna nodded and reached over to squeeze his hand in gratitude.

“Don’t thank me too much my dear. You should know I could never hurt you. And as long as he doesn’t either…. He shall have nothing to fear from me. Though I may not weep overmuch if he should fail in this mission to regain you” He gave her a wry smile and quirked an eyebrow. “All’s fair of course.”

Knowing James brooding nature and propensity towards foolish things, the last statement did not exactly instill a lot of confidence within her. The last thing she needed when attempting escape was these two men in her life fighting like rutting stags. The past and present merging in the most inopportune of moments. While they ate the small meal he had brought, she chewed and swallowed past the tightness in her throat and the knot in her stomach. 

William watched her carefully guarded face as they shared the meal. Once upon a time he fancied he could read her thoughts by her expressions alone. But that was before he learned what a truly gifted performer she was. However, he also knew that The Stage was not merely an amusing hobby, but a passion she truly loved. He doubted she would stoop to the vulgarity of playing a part to deliberately, or cruelly deceive another for some vain purpose. The Lorna he knew took her craft far too seriously; even known to respond to hecklers with righteous indignation at their lack of theatrical appreciation. No, she would require a very good reason to bring her talents into reality. As he studied her profile, the beauty he had always admired, he wondered if this Captain was in the category of very good reason. Catching his perusal, she flashed the crooked smile he remembered with fondness.

“You’re a fine man William. Always were.” 

Her hand rested upon the hidden blade; the restless movement unnoticed by the man staring intently into her eyes. He couldn’t help but soak up the praise, just a little. If he had been able to discern her thoughts, he might have known the taste of fear as well.

_I’d hate to have to kill you._

~

The cabin glowed from the light of a single candle, while Lorna lay upon the cot, hands bound once more. William had left to join the merriment that had begun in the galley – as any good pirate should. The sounds of the pirates celebrating drifted down the passageway. Loud laughter and music and more than a few phrases she caught that brought a colour to her cheeks. Especially when it concerned herself and Bonnie Wylie’s “way with the ladies.” Her eyes rolled in the dark at their lack of any intelligent wit. A smirk of satisfaction crossed her features when the new scratches upon his face, courtesy of their most recent “struggle”, were remarked upon.

“Aye mate, yer new pussy has her some sharp claws, does she now?!”

“Yay Bonnie lad, did ya try rubbing ‘er tummy, or scratchin’ behind ‘er ears?”

She feared the actual spraining of something if she rolled her eyes any harder. Still the hours passed, as their partying continued on into the late evening and with an impossible amount of fire liquid consumed into their bellies, a few of them braved her door. Only to be quickly dispatched by the watchful William. With some relief she noted that his sword skills had in fact become even more outstanding. Although she also wondered, as he easily defeated the latest tipsy renegade scoundrel with a smug look of arrogance; why no one ever decided to just shoot him. Thankfully, there did indeed appear to be a strict pirate’s code regarding honour. Well, at least amongst pirates themselves; not so much concerning the treatment of genteel ladies. 

~

The stillness of the ocean surface was a good omen, as the men quietly rowed into position. Oars breaking the briny, calm surface with careful silence so as to remain undetected. The boats sat low in the water and the figures huddled lower within its hull; draped in black to blend into the pitch black that seemed absolute. With quiet stealth they maneuvered into position. The loud voices and music from inside the ship aiding their silent and deadly approach. Some distance away, _The Good Hope_ was anchored in position. Its shadow dissolving into the nighttime darkness as every single light aboard was extinguished. Soon there would be enough light to set fire to the sky. Usually stout hearts hammered with both anticipation and apprehension for the coming fray, for the Devil had decreed there be no chance for surrender. Pirates would of course refuse it anyway. In taking what was his and mishandling something of great value to him, the terms had already been dictated. There would be no honour; no code in this battle. Atticus glanced nervously towards Cholmondeley’s latest “things that go boom and cause confusion.” Perhaps uttering a prayer regarding good timing for the first time in his life. No, it was not a fair fight that James was waging. He contained the chuckle within his chest – what a ridiculous concept that was anyway. 

~

It’s human nature to think one smarter. In James particular case as an expert military strategist, it was all but a foregone conclusion. As the boat carried him closer to the hull of the pirate ship, he stood in a wide legged stance within its hull; eyes and ears scanning the darkness. Only the sounds of the revelry inside carried across the water, but he knew there would be a watch in place. The question to be determined was: just how confident were these pirates in their own ability to continue their criminal activity unscathed? If tipsy in both arrogance and rum, there was a good change their wariness would be riding low as his boats upon the ocean currents. Certainly they were out-manned and out armed, but swords required close fighting and bullets could only travel in straight lines. Glancing down at the four bombs nestled in the hull, he considered the element of surprise was not their only advantage. He glanced to each man in his boat, the stoic glare pinning each one in place; whether by confidence or fear made no difference to him. As long as they followed the plan. He signaled to Atticus in the other boat just before it rounded the stern to take its position on the other side. The hacking _keow_ of a gull came in reply. James glanced down at the pocket watch in his hand, as the other arm reached up to steady their vessel against the hull of the larger one; hidden in the shadow of the ships' bow. The minutes ticked by as he waited. A brief moment spared to consider the calculated risk of his plan when he did not know where Lorna was being held within the pirate ship. Setting fire to a ship was dangerous enough. Boarding the burning heap of wood to mount a rescue one might argue was nothing short of suicide. He was putting a lot of faith in the notion that most pirates were likely a selfish lot who would be more concerned with saving their own skin; than risking it for some whore who was easily replaced. A grimace crossed his face though the word was only uttered in his mind. Upon the breeze carried the gull _keow_ cry three more times, and James bent down to retrieve the first explosive. Rising and bracing himself, and with a quick nodding glance towards the other men, he tossed the handmade bomb towards the deck of the ship… as he silently mouthed a countdown: 3, 2, 1… BOOM!

On the other side of the ship Atticus had also launched his own fiery missile upon the stern of the ship, and waited until after the initial loud explosion of flame, before he reached for the grappling hook and tossed it high in the air. Climbing slowly to the deck, as James carefully made his own ascent at the bow of the boat, With any luck, they would meet in the middle. The sounds of panicked shouting from above already reached his ears. When he neared the top, the flames had already spread from ropes to barrels and he could see their hunger feeding upon one of the masts. At the opposite end, a dark figure was backlit in the flaming light of one of the jib sails as it slowly crept towards the deck, making use of the cargo and shadows to remain undetected by the watch in the Crow's Nest above. Meanwhile, the men in the boats were making good use of some smaller bombs in order to set the lifeboats on fire. There would be no escape other than into the depths of the sea. All but one then made the climb aboard to assist their Captain and First Mate in any forthcoming battle. 

French Bill was only a few feet behind James when he noticed the outstretched arm from above in the Nest taking aim at his back. With expert aim of his own, the pirate was quickly dispatched, and fell with a sickening thud upon the deck just behind James. James, gun already drawn, turned in surprise and relief displayed on his face when he saw his own man at his back. Together they advanced across the deck towards where Atticus was already in close combat with one pirate not fighting any flames. His knife silenced the scream of warning just in time. As the fire quickly spread from jib sail to foresail, then leaping greedily at the topsail, the former occupant of the Nest might have been glad to meet the end he did, as in a sudden whoosh of flame the entire foremast burst in bright orange flames. The few pirates on the top deck screamed into the night, one of them dashing towards the galley ladder. He was quickly dispatched by a shot from Atticus weapon. Bill drew his sights on another advancing enemy, who quickly turned about face and headed back towards the stern of the ship.

“He’s going to the Captain’s quarters!” James shouted, and Bill took off in pursuit. 

By now the flames on the lifeboats had spread to the ropes, and one came crashing against the side of the ship, the burning hull smashing a porthole. The element of surprise now expired, it was but a few moments until the first few pirates came charging up from second deck to inspect the cause of the crash. They stood with jaws agape upon the deck of their burning ship, where ropes and bits of sooty sail now fell from the sky to land in burning heaps upon the deck. James and Atticus guns putting an end to their surprise and their lives, before they quickly ducked behind a stash of crates to reload. Just before he ducked down, James noted a tall pirate that stood to the side, though he looked more the gentleman than some fierce rogue. He held no drawn weapon, but a long sword hung at his side. One pirate ducked back down the ladder to warn the others, while the other started towards them. When James stood back up, ready to aim and fire, the pirate lay sprawled upon the deck, a widening pool of blood mingling into the flames. The man with the sword was gone. Atticus nudged his arm, drawing his attention.

“She’s really ablaze now James! We’ve not much time. Ya better go find her quick. I’ll cover the entrance.” 

James nodded and they ran across the deck. James quickly climbing down into the darkness of the second deck, while Atticus remained atop, prepared to duck both flaming debris and bullets if necessary. With some relief he noted the other men had completed their own tasks and were now climbing aboard. He signaled the gull cry and they all took up their positions and waited on high alert. Atticus looked above and it seemed the very sky was afire above him, and his experience at sea told him the ship was beginning to list to one side. It was taking on water now too. Glancing down the ladder into the darkness that had swallowed James, he hoped to hell the man knew what he was doing. And that it was not all for nothing and the lady already expired. 

From the shadows within the stern where the flames had not yet reached, William also cautiously watched, his mind thinking the same prayer. Since he could not get to Lorna now and set her free, he prayed this man in the black hat whom he assumed was her Captain, proved worthy in his mission. Though either way, it meant she would be lost to him for sure.  
~

Dust and debris rained down upon her as the fighting was unleashed above. Shouts, explosions, and gunshots mingled into a deafening symphonic arrangement. Sea water lapped at her ankles causing a chill to settle deep within her bones. Her arms had begun throbbing due to the pressure from being bound. Moving through the rising water, she stood upon the chair, resting her forehead upon a bulkhead, ears straining for any sounds of a forthcoming rescue. Fear bubbled in her chest, but she willed it to remain below the surface; a dull aching weight within her ribs. Silencing the voices that told her legs to go weak and her eyes to dull. Except one voice. The chant in her head as hell unleashed above and the water continued to rush inside the cabin …

_Hold out._

Suddenly, an eerie silence from above and the ship begin it’s pitch starboard.. or was it port? Dammit she’d never get it right -- the distinct splashing of footsteps coming down the passageway outside her door. The thought of drowning locked inside the small space a terrifying enough outcome that she has little care for who approaches. Then a pounding begins and the fear of whether it be friend or foe, has her hold her silence. Until with a gasp, she cringed as it was kicked off its top hinges; the bottom half floating at an odd angle in the now calf deep water. A darkened form rushed inside the room - Hell unleashed. She’d know that hat and brooding stare even in the darkest of places. If any fear ran through his veins, it never reached the lines of his face or settled in his eyes as they rested upon her. In that way only he could, keeping her still, holding her heart with just a gaze. Only a slight narrowing as he took in her disheveled appearance; the bruised cheek and bound hands. It was the flood of relief that broke his features which tore at her heart.

“James!”

One stride and a leap to the cot and they were standing face to face, his knife already drawn from its scabbard. With some regret, his gaze lifted from her own, as he cut the ropes that bound her hands, his hand touching the bruise upon her cheek upon its descent. In the space between his eyes and hers, a question was answered. Despite the weakness in her legs, she stepped to the cot, falling into his waiting arms. The firm grip of his hands as he held her close the only signs of the emotions that rolled within him. Lorna’s hands slipped around his neck, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder, while his arms enclosed her in their strong circle. Her heart throbbed just to be close to him again and James knew in his heart, this is where she belonged. When her breath hitched and body began shaking, any defense James had armored himself within, dissolved just as paper tossed upon the waters. One hand pressed her close, while the other stroked her hair, until they had all but morphed into one being. The warmth of his body enveloping her chilled skin. Pulling back, he ate her with his eyes, barely daring to believe it wasn’t another dream or vision to torment him. He wiped her tears with a calloused finger, even his roughness bringing more relief than her heart could possibly hold. Neither feeling the need for words, as their story unfolded in their eyes. 

The gap closed, and his mouth descended upon her own, a crash of relief and passion that circles like a tornado inside them. A brilliant flare that parallels the mayhem of flame and fury that surrounds them. No teasing or gentle brush of lips, but a demanding need that burned as hot as the flames that were devouring the ship. His hand rested below her ear, a thumb caressing her cheek as his mouth continued to ravish her own. Her fingers ran down the length of his spine pulling him closer until there was no air between them. The sudden pitch of the ship casting them off balance, and James twisted to take the brunt of their fall, as they hit the back wall of the cabin along the cot. Swiftly he turned her about to press against the damp wooden boards, his mouth barely having left her own, pressing his tongue along the seam of her lips. Her tongue pushed back against his own, as his body pressed them closer against the wall. And chaos continued to fall beyond the still flooding room. Breath quickening, and his brain lit on fire; unable to pull away as that warmth flooded his entire body again. The crush of their lips – the way her lips connected with his own and moved in perfect synch; a kind of magic he’d never known before. They balanced on the tipping cot; all tangled embrace and wild kisses. The numbness now fled and his hunger impatient, he fed on her sweet nectar, and still the thirst grew. Until with a gasp of air they drew apart, his eyes burned and held her fast, the craving barely met. The ship still pitching and fires still burning, and yet with a groan, he dove towards her mouth once more seeking a deeper drought. The sudden sound of a throat cleared breaks the spell, and James raised his head from her swollen lips as a man drunk on the finest wine. Within his eyes glared all the potential for an act of violence for this intrusion. 

William stood in the half hung doorway, the water level now reaching his knees, and sword in hand. 

“Aye, the fearless Captain has beaten the odds and so claims his…”

The words died in his throat as James gun was lifted and leveled at his chest. His aim steady while he held Lorna safely behind him. 

William saw no softness in that fixed glare, no quarter given in the tightness of his jaw. Only ill intent spilled from every pore. His own gaze shifted to Lorna, saw the pleading look in her own eyes. It was the audible click of the man’s gun that drew his attention back, but William refused to wilt in the face of challenge. Though there was a coldness in the man’s gaze that sent a chill, something else behind those hard, unblinking eyes told him if unleashed, the fury inside him would rage as hot as the flames above. The tension was rising faster than the water as the two man eyed each other carefully. William kept his sword half lowered, while his other hand hovered over the butt of his own pistol. When his eyes flicked once more seeking Lorna’s own gaze, he was sure an actual growl rose from the man who guarded her. His eyes widened as the thought came unbidden and fear finally traveled from his veins to settle in the lines of his face.

The tiger uncaged.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes back what is his and together they show what a formidable team they are united. William proves worthy, but will he earn a spot in James League? A sinking ship suffers no fools.

In the brief span of seconds as the two man held their stance, William considered the man who had so easily and with absolute authority taken charge of the ship. Not to mention Lorna’s mouth. Unknown to many, he was a man of excellent training and experience long before he ever sold his talents to a theatre, or sea faring vagabonds. Put simply; he didn’t trust a man without a visible weakness. It suggested a false veneer which covered something less stable. Perhaps even lacking honour, and he would not release the lady to such a man. Although, as his eyes quickly raked over the way her hand clutched his arm, and how he held himself solid before her; perhaps his weakness was not so hidden after all. 

“Lorna dear, perhaps you might introduce me to your Captain? Before he shoots me dead, thus leaving you with little chance of actually getting off this ship alive. And unspoiled.” The last part flung at James, the subtext clear. 

James lips curled into a snarl at the familiar use of the endearment. His brow raised slightly as he felt Lorna shift behind him, placing a hand on his raised arm. He shifted his body to prevent her moving forward, but with a gentle look, Lorna slipped past to stand between the two men. 

“James, this is William Andrew Johnston, an old theatre friend. He’s been keeping me safe here.”

“Hhhmmmm.” James continued to glare at the man.

Lorna deeply exhaled, “William, James Keziah Delaney. Sea Captain, Shipping Merchant, British fugitive and rumour has it the Devil, not necessarily in that order.” 

James cast a side glance towards her as she held her stance and cast him a look of subtle reproach. Her dry wit for once lost on him. Another grunt was his only reply as his eyes flickered between the two of them. 

“Honestly, James, it has been William lending a hand while we waited for you to come. He’s kept me safe.”

James raised a finger to the deep purple mark upon her cheek, “Safe hands you say?” He lifted one of her hands exposing the red welts that slashed across her wrist. “Tell me Sir, are your safe hands always so rough and prone to leave marks?” 

William stepped forward, and James gun once more leveled at his chest. 

“Maahau.” 

The pirate actor tilted his head at the odd noise emitted from the man, but still raised his free hand and stepped back. The sword remained in a tight grip within the other as he attempted to explain. 

“Sir, I promise you. It was all a clever ruse so as to be convincing. I would never lay a hand upon Miss Bow otherwise. You have my word as a gentleman Mr. Delaney.” 

Lorna turned her back on William, and James noticeably stiffened; his eyes still looking over her shoulder. She lifted hands up to cup James face to force his gaze back to her own. 

“James, you know me.” She paused while his gaze focused, sharpened on her own. “Would I not deal with him myself, if it were not true?” One hand slide down his chest, toyed with the hilt of one of the knives at his side. 

Slowly his gun was lowered as he realized the truth of her words. She was the only person he did truly trust, and she would not put them in danger. William watched their exchange and how swiftly James deferred to not just her logic, but how the emotion within her tone reflected in the intensity of his gaze. How his eyes softened, the hard lines melting into something else. He’d seen the man quickly take a human life with little effort or regard, but here was a note of tenderness. In that moment, the question in his mind was answered, and he knew it would take a force greater than Nature herself to pry these two apart. He sheathed his sword and stood at ease. James turned towards the pirate, not entirely apologetic considering she still bore the imprint of his fist. 

“So Mr. Johnston it was?” William nodded and stretched out his hand, which James pointedly ignored. “Talk to me about getting the lady safely off this sinking ship.”

William nodded his head, a mumbled _right, straight away_ passing his lips as he stepped past James and began gathering clothing items from his trunk. Pants, a long shirt, a bandana and hat which he passed to Lorna, who stared back at him and suddenly groaned. 

“William, you cannot be serious?” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. James cringed at the familiar use of his first name, but let the moment pass, his curiosity at the man's’ plan piqued. 

“Why - it will never work.” She held the garments towards him, while James stood by completely confused. Battling his conflicting feelings concerning their easy interaction. 

He pressed the pirate clothes back towards her. “It will work. With all the confusion on deck, we’ll just look like three scared pirates running for safety. Come on dear. “ A side glance towards James who glared in return. “Time to be Viola once more. And this time, you will be acting as though your life truly depends on it.”

James finally understanding the man’s intent and finding no fault, turned towards her, leaving the decision to her quick mind. Lorna loosed a deep sigh and then made a circular motion towards the two of them, the two men immediately averting their backs to allow her privacy. When she had donned the clothes she bade them to turn around to inspect the worthiness of the disguise. James eyes roved up and down the length of her, noting the curve of her hips, swell of her breast and the delicate features of her face displayed with her hair tied back, only accentuated more. William’s intake of breath beside him won the man's unexpected and forceful entry into the hallway. While James stepped forward to make some very necessary adjustments. He added a long coat to cover her feminine curves and spying some mustache wax upon the table, liberally smeared it over her face. Lorna’s nose wrinkled in distaste, but she remained still under his hands. James glanced up, took in the long lashes and the shape of her lips and could only think no way in hell she’d ever pass for a man. Despite the ridiculousness of the ensemble, he was still tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly, as she stood still, her bottom lip caught in her small teeth.

“Well?” Hesitation and apprehension drenched her tone. 

“Hhhmmm.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “I still want to kiss you, but I’m not feeling very good about it to be truthful.” 

Her laugh came quick and soft, and she dipped her fingers in the grease and applied some to his own face, as he offered a rueful smile in return. “I guess it will have to do. We just won’t let anyone get too close.”

William stepped back into the room, his nose also turning up slightly when he spied Lorna with the dirty grime smeared across her cheeks. He looked at James, as if to say not bad, and was about to offer his hand again, when James fist suddenly connected with his face. He recovered quickly and turned back, mouth agape. But James stepped close and raised a pointed finger. 

“You did hit her though. Right? You should have expected that.” 

William looked between the two, as Lorna came and leaned against his strong form, and could only sigh in reply. “Aye I did do that. I had that coming, I did.”

Lorna was about to step between the two men, when suddenly the ship pitched once more, bringing a stronger rush of water flooding into the cabin. She and James were thrown off balance, their legs in danger of tripping over the chair, while James pulled her into his grasp in attempt to keep them upright. The door finally broke free of its bottom hinges and crashed into the back of Williams legs. He struggled to keep his footing in the swirling mass of water, but all three of them were sent flailing in the enclosed space. The coldness of the water already bringing a numbing chill. James kept a tight hold on Lorna’s arm, leaving bruises of his own. William gained his footing first and reached out to James and pulled him towards the door; the adversaries finally clasping hands in their shared goal of getting the lady to safety. The three of them pushing against the force of the water and finally exited into the passageway. James reached down, clasped Lorna’s hand tight within his own and proceeded to half pull and drag her towards the ladder at the end, where they could now see a good portion of the night sky glowing above. The ship was tipping towards her stern, making their escape akin to an uphill crawl. Lorna was halfway up the ladder, when a face suddenly appeared above her, and she bit her tongue so as to not loose the scream and give herself away. Instead, she stared directly into the barrel of a gun, just as she felt James own gun reaching across her shoulder. Then his quick sigh of relief.

“Dammit Atticus, I near blew off your face. Help the lady, quickly.”

Atticus stared back confused. “The… who?” He leaned forward, past Lorna to glance past James where he stood half over top her body, and only saw another man bringing up the rear. A pirate! Once again his gun raised as he shouted for James to get down. Both Lorna and James yelled for him to stop, but it was the feminine tone in his ear that gave him pause. He turned eyes wide in disbelief towards her dirt streaked face. 

“Mrs. Delaney?” The utter shock and disbelief upon his face almost caused her to dissolve into laughter. “I’m sorry m’am, but I didn’t… that is, know it was you.”

Lorna clapped him upon the shoulder, as he grasped her hand to assist her over the now slanted entry, “I will take that as a compliment Atticus.” 

Finally all four stood on deck, braced against the deep dive the ship was beginning to take. Lorna held tight within James grasp and Atticus just dying to remark, but for the first time in his life choosing wisely to hold his tongue. William led them across the ship, sword raised and ready to defend if necessary. Though it appeared any remaining pirates were more concerned with also keeping their own footing. Several chose the option of the dark sea when faced with the hungry flames still burning. 

Suddenly the tall pirate Captain who had addressed James on his ship stepped in front of them, halting their progress. James immediately dropped Lorna’s hand from his own and angled his body so as to shield her from his view. 

“Bonny Wylie, have ya grown tired of yer lovely booty already? What did ya leave her in yer cabin to sink with the ship?” His loud guffaw echoed into the night, and Lorna saw James back stiffen in front of her. 

William joined his ribald laughter and played his part so well even James had to admit a token of admiration. “Well sad thing is, I tied the wench up while I supped to regain some energy” - a sly wink at the other pirate - “and unfortunately the cabin filled with water and the poor lass drowned before I could get back in time.” 

The pirate nodded, an evil smirk stretched across his gap toothed mouth. Then he nodded at the other three who stood silently behind William. “And what of these?”

William stood frozen in place, unable to formulate any acceptable reason as to why he was marching three probable attackers across the deck. A tense silence with only the crackle and roar of the flames in the background. The tall pirate suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Lorna by the arm and tried to haul her forward. “In particular this one, who seems far too small to be a pirate in my opinion.”

Lorna wisely held her tongue, but James grabbed her arm in attempt to pull her back against him, as the pirate tried to pull her the opposite direction. With both her arms twisted and pulled, she inadvertently cried out against the pain. The ruse revealed, the adversaries eyes locked in a silent challenge. There wasn’t a chance in hell James would let her be taken from him again, and the taller man saw the resolve in the steel of his gaze. Action exploded all around her as William’s sword raised, at the same time she noted Atticus reaching for his gun, and James dropped her arm to raise his own. But it was her own hand that grabbed the knife from James waist, as the pirate continued to pull her against him intending to use her as a shield. His tall height giving him the advantage of a sudden retreat, pulling Lorna along clasped against his chest. A shot glanced past his head from Atticus weapon and he momentarily faltered. And it was then that Lorna took the advantage and twisting about sank the wicked curve of the blade into his neck. James, having felt the blade leave the leather scabbard had already rushed forward knowing her intent, arriving just as the man’s blood spurted over both of them. Drawing the other knife, he slashed his abdomen to finish the job, before pulling her safely back into his arms. Adding a good portion of the man’s life blood to her already blood splattered disguise. The tall pirate sank to his knees, eyes wide in disbelief. Atticus, having reloaded his weapon, walked up to them; taking in the blood and grime that covered them and could only shake his head. 

“The pair of ya are an awful fright. I’ve seen and done the most wicked things. But it’s you two are gonna cause me fucking nightmares.” And strode past them to side of the boat where French Bill and more of James men now stood waiting. 

William sheathed his sword and fell into step with Atticus, rubbing his bruised jaw and quipped, “Well mate, just be thankful they're on your side.” 

James looked down at Lorna as she passed his grime covered knife back to him. Once more their silences speaking louder than words. His finger wiped along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, leaving a semi clean path among the grime. He smiled softly.

“Now who looks the savage?”

Lorna smiled, her eyes bright in the starlight night. “Still want to kiss me?”

“Hhhhmmm.” But she caught the slight nodding of his head and glint in his own eye. 

“I’d rather see you safely on a boat before this ship is resting on the bottom of the sea.” Dodging a piece of burning sail, he took her hand and led her towards French Bill. “Bill, see Mrs. Delaney safely back to the ship.” The always quiet man simply nodded and if he thought anything of her strange and slightly morbid appearance, it never registered on his face. Lorna turned back to James, worry creasing her brow. 

“You’re not coming with me?”

“No. I need to make sure the ship sinks and no one follows. Bill will protect you until I return to my ship.” 

He stepped closer to her. Leaning in so that his lips brushed her ear and his gaze inches from her own, “Have Robert tend the fire in my cabin so you can get dry and warm. I’ll finish business here,” his lips pressed closer, gently brushing her temple, “and then I will be with you.” 

His eyes held hers, and seeing the promise within, she smiled and allowed herself to be handed into the waiting boat. The sinking ship now only several feet above the water. James men made a space in the hull for her to rest her weary body, and soon the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat, and the ink canvas void above caused her eyelids to become heavy. While she gazed upward, a million starry eyes reflected the tears within her own. But it wasn’t a sadness. As she found the guiding pattern, counted it’s seven points, it was joy of things finally seen that brought the swell of emotion. Her eyes lowered to the distant horizon, barely discernible in the moonlight, but the hulk of James ship stood in contrast to the glowing backdrop of stars. As they neared, the name emblazoned upon the stern shone like a beacon on this dangerous night: The Good Hope. 

She was never more aware of the fragility of life. That heartache could shatter your mind, and still though you risk being broken again, you find the strength to allow love to come softly into the darkened spaces. That’s what hope was. Just this bright thing that floated upon the dark, calm sea; waiting. Too often handled as though one could slip it into their pocket and carry it around. Or pennies turned green with age lying forgotten at the bottom of a wishing well, and still we return to toss another tuppence over the edge. Wish our will into being. Such an enduring thing was never meant to be trapped. She knew now it always perched inside you, but it needed love to set it free. Only then would it be the guiding light leading the way back. Stealing one last glance towards those heavenly skies, as they moored alongside James ship, it occurred to her; maybe we all are just stars - each of us braving the fall - open to the toss of a coin; just to make anothers’ wish come true. She heard it echo across the still waters. 

_I will be with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Andrew Johnston is loosely based on an actual pirate from my hometown named Bill Johnston. He was born in Canada and accused of spying in 1812, at which point he joined the American side of the war. He was involved in the destruction of the passenger ship the Sir Robert Peel and a member of the Upper Canadian Rebels. Mostly he was known as a smuggler and a river pirate, and very prosperous merchant.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because we know he was simply a man, with weakness and frailties.  
> Who yearned for the same things all of us do--to love and be loved”  
> ― Kristen Callihan, Firelight

The night was filled with the noise of hungry flames; crackling and spitting as they continued to feed upon sections of the ship still above water. Sparks shot high and were carried away on the wind like lazy, little fires bravely burning just out of reach of the curling surf that could snuff their light. As if the sea herself held back her power just to watch them float past. Then the long hiss of steam as her charred remains slowly slipped into the cold sea. One breathed in the salty scent along with the acrid smell of ashes on the wind. The evening sky cast with hazy smoke and damp mist, both layering the skin as though too afraid to be set adrift on that same breeze. The voices of any surviving pirates carried across the waves, as they clung to some half burned piece of cargo, or one another in the cold dark. At the opposite end of the boat, he could hear Atticus alternating shouting curses and insults, while he also conversed with William. The two men watching the slick surface to make sure no one attempted to climb within their vessel. 

James barely spared them a glance, his gaze keenly focused on the departing black dot that was slowly making its way back to his ship. He could not even see a glimpse of red curling tresses, let alone a crooked smile, and still he watched until the bobbing vessel was lost in the darkness. Lights now adorned his ship. Tiny beacons glowing in the night against the velvet backdrop of stars. His eyes found the seven stars; ancient guides still leading the way and he wondered if she was also gazing upon these million little glimmers of hope. Distant magic symbols still determining matters of life and death upon those doomed to only cast wishes; never able to touch, or carry them about for the chance of a better fate. Fire, stars and lanterns bright; all around him the night filled with warm and welcoming light. Some of it fading, some of it shining bright; but none of it the light he was seeking. 

James returned his gaze to the occupants of the small boat, head slanted as he caught the easy camaraderie between them. The two rowers that sat waiting between them laughing every now and then at their exchanges with the pirates still fledgling in the water. His eyes fell on William; this stranger who had made himself so useful, though James suspected his motives still were not altogether altruistic. He trusted the lady’s heart – but was no fool to dismiss this gentleman disguised as rogue, as a suitable replacement should he prove unworthy himself. Jealousy was a foreign emotion to James. He simply had never cared enough prior to this moment watching the handsome man fit in so easily with his crew. Or the easy manner he displayed with Lorna, the bonds of their past friendship evident. He was more than a capable fighter and James new training and education when he saw it. Yes, there was definitely more to William Andrew Johnston than met the eye. Though he had earned his spot on the ship without a doubt, it was apparent James would need to find a use for him. If for no other reason than to keep a watchful eye on the man. He would not be lax in protecting his most precious treasure ever again. His eyes raised once more, seeking out his ship in the darkness beyond, noting the light that softly glowed from the Captains’ quarters windows. A weight lifted from his chest and he breathed deeply for the first time this harrowing evening. 

“Alright gentlemen, it’s time.”

The rowers immediately picked up their oars and began to row towards the Good Hope. Behind them, the last burning section of the pirate ship slipped into the sea with a long hiss and burst of steam, plunging them into darkness as the flames extinguished. No longer able to see faces floating in the water, Atticus gave up his taunting with a final parting remark.

“To the sea or the sharks ya mangey bastards, but I wager none of ya will see the morn.”

William chuckled beside him, “You certainly have a way with words chap,” and clapped him upon the back. 

His eyes lifted to James, who he knew had been studying him intently while they waited for the ship to sink. He met that probing stare refusing to drop his own, but gave a slight nod by way of acknowledging his gratitude to be shown a measure of mercy. He suspected the man would watch him closely; just as he would do if the lady belonged to him. In that regard he could offer him no further ease other than his word as a gentleman. He only sought to ensure the lady was safe and treated well. The man seemed about to say something, but only nodded in return. Another odd grunted sound, as he turned away. But William noted the tightening in his jaw before he presented his back and gazed forward; his eyes trained on the lights glowing from the stern of his ship. William followed his gaze, saw the light flicker from the movement that passed beyond the stern windows. His own jaw tightening at the idea Lorna was waiting in the Captain’s cabin. They had referred to her as Mrs. Delaney, but she had not introduced him as her husband, nor was there evidence of wedding bands. His brow furrowed slightly at the idea she had been dishonoured, but then he considered: the man had attacked an entire ship of pirates just to ensure her safe return to him. Clearly this was no passing fancy. He would do no less himself; either to have her – or to hold onto her. 

As he glanced out over the waters, watching the light flicker across the calm surface as they drew nearer; he concluded there was one truth he knew above all. Whether she was Miss Lorna Bow or Mrs. James Delaney; she was a woman who knew her own mind. He’d seen the choice clear in how she had looked at the man. How she had bent to his kisses without resistance. He’d also seen how she had quite easily soothed the savage beast with her quick mind and tone. William glanced at James whose eyes still watched the same flickering light and a subtle smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The poor man probably never stood a chance. He chuckled to himself, earning the gazes of Atticus and James, who raised a curious brow. William simply shrugged his shoulders, and James turned back to his watchful gaze, the tension emitting from his body in waves. No, William decided; the man never even knew what hit him. Probably been floundering like the men behind them, trying to keep their heads above the water and still hold onto whatever treasure they had sought to scavenge. He couldn’t help but admire such a man. He might even be worthy of her. As he sat pondering such matters, the rain began to fall upon them and the rowers increased their pace. The ship only a short distance away now. James leaned forward at the bow of the boat, the yearning to reach his ship a palpable weight in the boat. He couldn’t blame the man at all. However, that didn’t mean he did not intend to make sure he learned to take better care of his treasure. 

~

Upon her arrival, and after a brief exchange with Godfrey to assure him all the men were safe and due to return soon, Lorna enclosed herself in James cabin. Only Robert was permitted entry, and he sat quietly with her by the fire until she felt a calmness settle over her. Finally she raised her head, eyes a little more red – the purple bruise vivid on her pale cheek - and the boy felt the wicked thoughts of violence for those who had hurt her surge within his slight frame. He took hold of one her hands, the probing stare so familiar to her. 

With a small smile, she pulled the boy into her embrace, thankful for this small measure of warmth and love that had come to perch upon her soul. A storm had begun, the rain hitting the portal in slanting drops, and a nervous rolling began in her stomach. The space felt too small suddenly. She needed to get out of his cabin. Robert tried in vain to convince her to remain where it was warm and dry; certain that would be James wish too. Failing in that goal, he was determined to remain by her side, and gallantly escorted her to the main deck. When they reached the top deck, they were greeted with pelting drops and an impatient tension that scattered among the crew like a disease. Almost every set of eyes was trained on the pitching sea, scanning the dark, churning waters. Godfrey and French Bill casting nervous glances towards her and then out back to the worsening sea. Finally, they crossed to where she stood, feet braced and her jaw set. 

Godfrey, ever the gentle soul, took her hands in his own delicate ones, “Mrs. Delaney, perhaps it would be more comfortable, and much safer for you to remain inside? I’m certain James would wish the same.” French Bill nodded his agreement.

She opened her mouth to protest, but seeing the truth of his words, gave him a stilted nod and spun about on her heel. It seemed like hours she paced a new worn path on the planks of her cabin; though in truth it was barely one. When she grew weary of her own quarters, she crossed the hall to James, but being amongst his things only caused her more distress. Every turn of her head she would catch his scent lingering in the air. His maps and several drawings laid out on the table. She imagined them also impatient for his return; waiting to be made useful once again. A silence settled in her soul. A dark void that threatened to swallow her whole, and it was filled with all the words she never said. This storm threatened to sweep her away, for she knew now the bitter truth: there would be no safe harbor if he was gone. 

~

Bent before the fire coaxing the flames, she didn’t hear the door open or his silent tread across the room. He was just suddenly by her side, taking the coal shovel from her hands and placing it on the fire where the flames greedily devoured it. The rain drops cascading down his face onto the hot stove with a hiss. Their eyes met across the glow and the heat of the flames danced across their faces. James lifted his hand, fingers tenderly grazing the bruise on her cheek, eyes narrowed as he leaned down and brushed his lips upon the mark. His hand shifted to the side of her head where her hair glowed like a halo of fire – his avenging angel and the thought makes him smile. That she is his, and what he learned in the depths of that ship was that hearts were not meant to be kept inside cages. Bound by a multitude of false wires and cursing us to false lives. One could not just slip through them to be free - for the cage still existed. Its’ bars remained fixed and strong, always tempting your return to their familiar confines. No, they were meant to be broken open. To spill love into every corner, every recess of your mind and awake it from its imposed slumber. James had but one wire left to cut; and with twelve years already lost to him, there was not another moment to waste. 

Lorna had taken a seat upon the edge of the bed, her eyes mostly averting as he removed his wet clothes and donned the familiar long, blue shirt that barely reached his thighs. James was well aware of her glances as he wiped the sweat and bloody grime from his face and hands. He crossed to the cot, sinking down behind her with an exhausted groan, pulling her own weary form back against his chest. Gathered in his arms, she sighed and snuggled as close as possible, using her warmth to chase the chill from his skin. She lifted her chin, a smudge of dirt still lingered on the tip of her nose and smiling James pressed the point with his finger. Squeezing her close, he pressed a kiss to her brow, while she nuzzled her face into the curve of his neck; inhaled the scent that was him. His head leaned back against the wall as his gaze drifted around the room, resting on various objects from the previous Captain.

“My father always used to bring home a treasure from his voyages. Little things to show me where he had traveled. So many things carted home and finding their own place among the others… filling the house.” His voice drifted off into memory. “It was empty of anything else of any value to me. But there was always things to look at least.”

His fingers laced with her own. “Come here boy, he’d say and I would come, touching the latest oddity while he told its story. Always so proud of what he could share. Me… always so curious to learn more. And then I went in seek of them myself, while the ones left behind sat and gathered dust.” 

“He missed you desperately James. There was so much more he wanted to share with you.” She twisted around to meet his gaze. “He was sick with regret mostly I think.” She squeezed the hand that held her own. “He was proud of you James… he told me so.”

James reached his fingers up to caress her temple. “I didn’t know there were so many ways to describe red curls.” Her brow knitted as she leaned slightly away. “My personal favourite being _sunset locks burning their warmth upon a man’s mind_ …” Lorna gasped and turned back towards him, a playful hit landing on his shoulder.

“Oh! You are wretched James!! You did read the letters.” 

James grunted and offered a sheepish grin. 

“I may have read one or two.” His eyes burned into her own. “However, my mood was more self-pity than poetic that evening. And I may have been agreeing with my father entirely too much on that particular subject.” His fingers pulled through the long curls, and his hand came to rest on her back. 

“What I am wondering though, is why my father kept his greatest treasure hidden? A secret. Even from his trusted servant.” His head tilted to the side, matching her own confused stare.  
“All he gave me was the trunk James. There’s nothing more that I know of.” Her head lowered. “And that was the last I ever saw him.”

“Why do you suppose he did that? The most beautiful thing he had ever found,” James hand lifted to touch her cheek. “and yet, he didn’t bring _you_ home. Why?” 

Lorna sat still and quiet; following the line of his thoughts, but not yet making the connection.

“The trunk had the treaty…”

Lorna nodded, “He knew you would come looking for it. He told me to be patient with you. That you’d be full of anger. Hatred even.” She lifted eyes threatening to spill to his own. “That you’d probably hurt me to make me leave.”

“And what did he tell you to do.”

A single tear slipped free and rolled down her cheek as the words came back to her. “He said he knew I would not give up. And to…. _hold out_.”

James nodded his head slowly, brushed her wet cheek. “Aye he did. And you didn’t give up. Everything I threw at you, you handled.” He smiled softly. “He knew we would cross paths, made sure of it in fact. He married you, but he kept you a secret,” his eyes sought her own, “he never acted the husband… but made sure we would meet.” His brow raised with her own - seeing the suggestion not lost on her. 

Lorna’s eyes widened as the entire truth hit home. “And it protected his will - having a widow. Protected Nookta from the Company." She softly added, seeing the knowing sadness in his eyes, "And anyone else making deals.”  
She sighed deeply. “Having a widow, it protected you too.” A frown crossed her face. “He used me. Just part of another plan…”

James pulled her back into his arms, his mouth close to her ear, “I thought he didn’t know the value of the treasure he acquired.” He kissed her lightly behind her ear, felt her body shiver against his own. “But now I think he didn’t acquire it for himself.” His mouth found hers, the lightest touch, before he whispered against her lips. “and I do intend to take better care than he did, my love.”

Lorna nestled close against his strong chest, feeling his heart beat with her own. Letting those words wash away any lingering doubts. They held each other as the whole journey of the past months suddenly came into focus. Her arms snaked around his neck, drawing his head to her own. 

“James?”

“Hhhmmm?”

“I lied – I wasn’t bored and I didn’t want to see…”

His mouth dropped to kiss her own, the flames within leapt, but smothered in the weariness of the night’s battle, sputtered to a soft glow. 

“I know.” He pulled her close, his own eyes brimming. “And now you cross an entire ocean.” A chuckle into her hair, “Defy pirates. No matter how the waves toss about; you will never sink.” 

She signed once more and leaned her head upon his chest, his arms pressing her close, and the sound of her breathing came soft and regular as he breathed in her scent like the breath of life. Glancing down he saw that her eyes had closed, lashes casting shadowed lengths on the curve of her cheeks. Her body felt so soft and warm … and so right against his own. Desire coiling in his stomach each time her chest pressed upon his own. Still, it was a supreme effort to hold his own eyelids open. His chin was wont to keep falling upon the top of her head, the fingers that combed through the long waves gradually slowing. Even as the hungry need still spread through every cell. And ghosts circled his mind. In this battle worn state he questioned his ability to keep them quiet and still. One last wire, but the strongest one of all, and he still knew not how to sever its hold, only to keep moving forward. Discarding the lies that held you captive bound, and holding on to the truths that set you free. 

The storm raged outside. The soft pellets of rain hitting the portal a welcoming white noise over the thoughts in his head. The lilting of the ship causing their bodies to sway slightly in time with one another. A dance his mind realizes with some amusement. And he doesn’t mind at all how their bodies move together. In fact, he’s definitely desperate to see just how well they move together. It was only sheer exhaustion that delayed the moment; words still needing to be said. For her, he would take the time. He pulled her down upon the bed beside him. Her hand stretched across the opening of his shirt, sliding slowly down across his ribs until it came to rest on his lower abdomen. He breathed deeply as his entire body responded to the touch. Pulled her closer and wrapped his bare legs over her own. He let the patter of the rain on the window and the motion of the ship lull his body into stillness. Surrendering to the pull of sleep, though every nerve was alive with a yearning that threatened to burn. His mind drifted back to the weightless feel of floating upon the waves. The soothing caress and the silence to be found below the surface; but this time he was not alone and no claws reached for him. He realized that of late, when his darkest times had threatened to mire him in the muddy recesses of his mind; she’d been there. The steadying ground beneath his feet. So much time lost to him, and now nothing but time stretched before him. Of all the ways she had helped him, allowing him time to sort through his own mind, was her greatest gift. He smiled softly into the hair at her temple, the truth settling in his heart and he felt the last wire break free. 

He’d fallen in love just as one falling asleep; first slowly – and then all at once. 

He was tempted to wake her up and say the words against that crooked smile. But another truth came just as swiftly: he had a feeling they would need this rest.  
This moment to repose in one another’s arms and reconnect, just one part of a bigger plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not yet, said I.  
> xx


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW!**   
>  18+
> 
> _“Ladies and gentlemen, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat ..... it's all happening."_

The rose tinged fingers of dawn were just stretching across the cabin floors, when feeling a chill, Lorna awoke. She leaned towards the back of the cot, seeking James warmth, but found an empty space instead. Lifting her head she glanced around to find the cabin also empty. Lightning cast muted flashes upon the walls and the rain continued to slash upon the window. The ship rocked and pitched, but not as precariously as before. Her stomach dipped slightly, but after a few moments, began to settle. She rose from the bed and began pacing the small space. Various bangs and the thud of feet came from above, and she assumed James had gone to check on the ship during the storm. Knowing his exhaustion, she felt a tiny bit of worry rise in her chest, but calmed her thoughts with the knowledge that he was an experienced sailor. Finally she came to stand in a restless, fidgeting pose before the bank of windows. The churning waves beyond mirroring her own emotions. A roll of thunder concealed the sound of booted steps along the passage way. Though James tried to open the door quietly, an errant gust of wind grabbed and it hit the wall behind with a resounding bang. His eyes had already noticed the empty bed, before her gasp of surprise revealed her presence before the windows. 

“James, my god you look half drowned.” 

Crossing quickly, she scooped up a towel along the way, just as he was bending to shovel another bucket of coal into the fire. Straightening up he took the towel and ran it across his dripping face and then over his water logged head. She stood beside him, hands reaching out to the warmth of the fire, but eyes reluctant to leave him.

“You look positively drenched. Is everything alright?”

James nodded and grunted a reply, but his eyes held her own. “Did the storm wake you?”

She shook her head, “No, I just woke up. And felt you were gone… I’m fine. No problems with this storm.”

He smiled, “You got your sea legs, aaahhh,” his arms stretched out indicating her balanced stance despite the slight rolling of the ship beneath them.

She smiled softly back, and took a step towards him, eyes searching his own, “Will you have to go back out?”

“No, I don’t.”

They both smiled across the space between them, as the nervous swell pulsed between them, and James stood dripping upon the worn planks. Every fiber of her being tingled and trembled straight through to her toes, while James felt the adrenaline course through his veins. The air between them vibrating with anticipation. Both their bodies pumped with excitement, the electric sparks snapping in their gaze, and this time there was no off switch. They both moved closer, as though invisible strings suspended from above controlled their limbs, but with the rolling motion of the ship their puppeteer appeared slightly drunk. James arms reached out to prevent her from falling off balance. All cool detachment and restrained emotion torn asunder as soon as he touched her skin.

They fell into one another, and James arms wrapped tight pulling her full against his chest. He can’t get her close enough now. Soaked to the bone, but she cares not a bit as long as he’s holding her. He buried his face in the soft curve of her neck, while her hands raked through the short strands of his hair. The soft, light touch of her fingers brushing the nape of his neck, until finally they rest on the rough skin of his cheeks. Her head turning towards his own and he feels their sighs and breath mingle and knows what it means to come undone. Dropping his gaze to her parted lips, the urge to taste them a coiling need; but he starts slow. The slightest graze of his mouth upon her own. Testing their softness. Testing his own mind and he wills himself to stay in control. Her eager response sets his head spinning and he dives in with abandon. Ravishing her mouth until they are both gasping for air. Passion flares as this fire between them is unleashed and stoked to an all-consuming thing. Lorna clung to him, her tongue darting with his own, and a groan began deep in his chest. Slowly he pulled her along with him, until the edge of the bed hit the back of his legs. 

His heart threatened to thud right out of his chest and that familiar panic began to rise; his mind lost in a silent chant. Head swimming and the thought comes: if it goes amiss now, he will remain forever broken. Not now. Not with her. He can’t bear to lose her. Pulling back, he stared into her eyes, and she saw the fear dancing within the passion fueled flames. The desperation creeping into the lines of his face. Gently she cupped his face in her hands and pressed her forehead against his own, willing her calmness to pass into him. Felt his body relax immediately. She kissed his temple, his cheek, the scar on his eye, and finally his mouth softly, slowly. James breathed her in like the breath of life itself. Felt the whisper against his skin.

“Stay with me James. Stay here.”

His hands gripped her so tight she feared he would squeeze the very life from her, but she wants it. To absorb a little bit of that dark nature so that she can wrestle its flow to join her own. She forced his gaze; that flicker passing between them as lightning flashed upon the walls. 

_I can cross the river James. I won’t let us sink._

His hands twisted in the long tresses, pulling her back to him. Eager mouth branding her as his own. The weight of a thousand different sins and sorrows suddenly lifted, and he breathed deeper than he’s even done. She called him back, the only voice that can drown out the ones in his head. He’d done so much in this life to be unworthy of her, but she was the only one that never made him feel worthless. 

He pulled back and traced the outline of her lips with his finger. The laugh line he adored. Down the ivory skin of her neck and across her collarbone, his eyes following each line. Drawing the map. The only one he’d ever need again. Brushing the strap of her shift down a pale shoulder, past the gunshot scar that he fingers lightly; his heart constricting for what she endured for him. He continued down the tender skin of her arm, seeing the goosebumps raise along the creamy skin, until he caught her hand and entwined his fingers with her own. Their kisses take on a slow and sensual discovery of one another. The soft touch of her fingers at the edge of his shirt and her haste is evident in how fast she sweeps it over his head, then returning just as quickly upon his chilled, damp skin. Tracing the tattoos and scars as though she sought to memorize every detail. Her slow and thorough perusal arousing him like nothing ever before – the curiosity mixed with adoration in her eyes driving his passion quickly. 

He pulled at the top tie of her shift. Saw a shadow flicker across her features and her gaze drop. His brow knit as he studied her, noted the stiffening in her body as her breath held in a different way. Closing off to him, and he dropped his hold of the tie. Instead his fingers traced lightly down her arms, allowing her space. Giving her time to let go whatever memory she held, and return to him. As she had done for him. 

_We will always catch one another._

Once again her gaze sought his as the long breath expelled. James leaned forward and kissed her gently upon the brow. His lips trailing down until he found her mouth, while his fingers trailed back up her arms. He felt her press into him once again, the memory washed away. Another river crossed. It was a calmer face that looked back at him now, and his hand reached for the second tie. Glowing eyes now shining brightly back at him. Then the third. Slowly one by one; holding her gaze. Her hands remained at her sides when the last lace gave way. 

Laying back he pulled her down upon him, her body molding perfectly into his own. The soft warmth of her breasts pressed upon his bare chest. His fingers tangled into her hair holding her to him, while her lips teased him so slow he can almost feel the violence rising within him along with this exquisite tenderness she pulls from him. This push and pull that exists inside always at odds with one another. Each kiss bringing a newly raw intensity. But she controls it easily. Though his need to have her, to toss her upon her back and drive deep inside, is a hunger pain - he lets her set the pace for now. The soft caress of her lips pressed upon skin that had for so long only felt pain. Sliding his hands down her back bringing her dress along with them. Until his hands grip the soft flesh of her backside, pulling her up against his hardness. The gasp in his ear and his name drops from her tongue. He loves the sound of it, has never corrected her from the first time she uttered it. Hearing it moaned as he rocked her pelvis upon his hardened bulge almost sent him over the edge. 

Rising up, he cradled her close against his now heated flesh. Hands making quick work of her dress. Fingers tracing her soft curves as he pulled it over her hips, Lorna shifting to aid its descent. Then, she can’t believe she’s naked in his arms. That it’s really James pulling a hardened nipple into his hot mouth, and teasing her flesh into a frenzy. His groans filling the small cabin and it’s her drawing that out of him. His mouth trailing down the smoothness of her ribs and she’s fascinated watching the muscles ripple across his back. Fingers lightly tracing the burned scar upon his back, everything both familiar and new, as though they had lived these moments a thousand times before. This dance a natural rhythm written in their very souls. His fingers tracing, petting, probing into the wetness that seeps from her centre and the moan that comes from him is like an animal uncaged. 

Arms circling tight, he spun her around to fall back upon the bed; his weight pressing her into the mattress. Lean fingers ghosting over her body; every nerve set on fire as though sparks shot from his fingertips. Down the soft roundness of her stomach; teasing the tender flesh of her thighs, his warm palm massaging upon the soft curls nestled there, while his lips traced down the inner curve of her hip. Her soft gasps spurring him onward to push a finger slowly inside the slick opening; drawing a deep sigh and his mouth returned to hers again. His tongue pushing between her lips, mirroring the movement within her. Her hips pressed up against the magic spells his finger cast; entering her again and again in a slow rhythm that mimics how it’s always been between them. No hurry. The slow burn building to bursting. This discovery of one another worth the waiting. Her head tipped back as the warm rush like waves cascaded over her entire body. Watching her closely, the rise and fall of her chest, knowing she is so close. He’s dying to see her trip over that edge. To watch it unfold in her eyes and know he’s the reason. Sliding down her body once more, the soft graze of his beard across her thighs, and then lightly brushed between her legs. Her hands knotted in his hair when his hot breath hit her wet opening and he slid a second finger deep inside. 

A single flick of his tongue across the swollen bud had her bucking beneath him on the bed. He grasped her hips hard enough to leave marks found on the morrow, and held her still as his mouth licked and sucked; fingers keeping their slow, steady pace deep inside. Bringing her close to the edge so many times. This tightening in her belly like a flash of lightning threatening to engulf her and her arousal is like a scent in the air. That static about them now fully charged and bouncing along every nerve. She was sure his tongue was torturing her, and in desperate need of release raked fingernails down his back. Sending shivering sparks down his entire body until his erection strained within his pants. Throbbing and impatient to be freed, he paused to kick them off, and ignoring himself, returned his focus to her. 

Lifting her hips to his mouth; his tongue opening her slowly, gradually – insistently. She teetered on the brink until her body went suddenly still, except for a breathless panting: that final tensing before the fall. James glanced up to find her eyes on him, wide with wonder, and he was momentarily struck by the hunger in her gaze. His fingers continued their slow, gliding motion, while his thumb gently circled her swollen clit. Head thrown back and hands tugging hard on his hair as her climax shattered inside, and he welcomed this pain with the pleasure. Slowly his stroking tapered off, allowing her to come down gently. Gliding back up her body, he trailed kisses and all the words he’d been holding back breathed into her flushed skin. 

James held her face gently in his hands. Their eyes locked and he loved that she didn’t hide her emotions from him. That she’s not embarrassed at the brimming wetness building in her eyes. Kissing them gently, her arms snaked around his neck, and he felt his name whispered on her soft breath. A slight trembling still coursing through her body. Shifting so that he lay between her legs, his erection probing at her wet opening, but he held himself still. One slender hand reached down between them. Fingers trailing his length, the silky texture she lightly stroked from tip to base and back up to circle the velvet smoothness of the head. Clasping round the wide girth with a firmer grip and tug downward, and James desire hissed through his teeth. His hand reached for her own and with fingers entwined, raised it over her head, pausing to search her gaze. The trust in her eyes touching him deeper than he could ever fathom. 

He kissed her at length. Drawing her tongue into play, deepening their connection before he made her his own in full. Certain it was love that circled within the warm depths reflected back at him -- it’s almost a pain inside how much he wants to hear her say it. Another truth he realized while she was taken from him, is that he’d never heard anyone say it before. And he should have known it would be this way. That she alone would give him what he needed most, when his need was greatest. When the buzzing in his head, while he paused on the brink, threatened to break the spell.   
She shifted her hips to massage along his hard shaft, her eyes seeking his at the same moment, pulling him down so her mouth grazed his ear, “James… I love you.”

How simply she stated it, just as any other certain truth that had passed her lips, belied the weight of emotion she held behind it. His heart shattered and within the same moment was born anew. He raised above her, positioning himself - so raw was his emotion, his passion; he thought it would be a driving home. Swimming in those warm depths that held him, he slowly pushed inside. A pause when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and then feeling every inch until he’d reached the hilt, filling her completely. Her head tipped back exposing the long column of her throat, his mouth found the hollow and pressed hot kisses. So overcome his teeth nipped gently at the soft skin. Felt her whole body tense and release. Her hips raised up to meet his, urging him to press onward, but he needed a moment. She felt so good, so right and he knew he utterly loved her. At his stillness, he heard her calm voice in the quiet, calling his name. 

Gathering her close so that she could see the truth of it in his eyes as well as in his voice, while he began his slow thrusts, the words he held in so long escaped past his lips, branded on her skin: “my love.” Her legs wrapped tight around him, deepening his thrusts and he could hold neither words nor action back any longer. It was all frenzied outpouring as he drove himself deeper and harder into her soft flesh, her name – and the odd impassioned curse - tore from his mouth. Every nerve in his body was pulled tight, humming like a live wire inside him, and he carried her along the current with him. Felt the climax building within her and their kisses became a feverish thing. 

She didn’t think she could pull him any closer into herself, but if he could swallow her whole, she sensed he would. Her own need pulsed within her core, sending waves of pleasure crashing over and over and she thought it would never end. He was driving into her and she welcomed each thrust, reveled in the sounds of their love making loud in the small space. With his need throbbing, James still slowed his pace; drawing his hard length so slowly in and out it was almost an agony for them both. His one hand returned to grip her own; entwined fingers pressing into the sheets. Feeling her legs shake around him, he pushed her knees up further so he could stroke deep inside, felt her arched response and she abandoned any attempt to silence her pleasure. 

He smiled in the semi dark, certain it was he alone to bring this wanton side out in her. The barrier, the tightness as he drove himself deeper suggesting she was not only completely his, but _only_ his. Why she didn’t say anything, was just another little mystery about her. Another thing to love. Her nails dug into his back and her legs squeezed him tighter, as though she had read his thoughts. With a gasp her back arched off the bed and he felt the rhythmic clenching of her walls where he was buried deep. Grunting into her shoulder, he thrust several more times, feeling his own release drawn out by her climax squeezing him tighter and deeper. With a loud, hoarse moan that caused his entire body to shudder so violently he feared he would break her, he spilled his seed inside. With a final muted groan he collapsed upon her, nuzzling his nose into her neck. Then tasting her mouth in a long, deep and almost fragile kiss, while the sweat glistened on their bodies in the fire light cabin. 

His hand still held her own tight, and the other gently cradled the side of her face while he murmured her name; holding her close allowing his rapidly beating heart to return to normal. If this was how it would be between them, he was in danger of never leaving this cabin. She felt his smile against her skin, but didn’t ask – as always, she allowed him his secrets until he was ready. Her fingers trailed up and down his back, along his sides and down his arms. James felt as if he were floating under her gentle touch. How she cared for him came so easily to her, and still he marveled at it. They lingered in the silence for a few moments, James absently playing with the strands of her hair. Then rolling onto his back with a deep groan, he pulled her along and she lay her head upon his chest. Her fingers tracing patterns through the hair and along the dark bands that marked him. Drifting in and out of suspended sleep, they curled about one another. Coming to the surface briefly, his head turned and pressed a kiss, before inhaling deeply, then released: “I love you. Always.”

Her head lifted to find his lips. Her own declaration promised before she kissed him softly. Then she looked at him with such wide eyes full of surprise at what had just transpired, he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. And then fell in love with her all over again. 

“That was…” she stammered to find the right words. 

James gave her a feigned look of shock, “What’s this, a famous actress of the stage struck mute? Shocking!”

Lorna swatted him on the shoulder, pushing him lightly, and made as if to leave the bed, “You’re an ass. There’s a word.” A coy wink tossed over her shoulder as she started to scramble away from him.   
James laughter sounded through the cabin and she suddenly paused at hearing it so natural for the first time. He grabbed her about the waist and using his weight, pinned her under him, holding her hands easily above her head with his own. 

“Come now love, I’ll not let you get away so easily. Not ever now, since I know how much,” he glanced down, caught the clouded desire in her eyes and her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, “you enjoy my attention.” 

His brow raised and she replied in kind. He pulled her arms tighter above her head, felt her breathless response and rolled his body fully on top of her own. Felt her legs spread to welcome him. The sharp intake of breath as he entered her again in one slow, long delicious thrust. Still holding her arms captive. The challenge in her gaze.

“Hhhhhm.” 

She smiled back and circled her hips beneath him, wanting him to unleash the darker side; just a little bit. His eyes burned into her own, the skin that stretched and glowed beneath him, and he knew without a doubt they were the same. This discovery still so new, seeming so fragile, but still he wanted to give it voice. 

“I didn’t know… love. If I even could… or how to tell you.” He let the words drop, though as always, if his eyes were made of ink, there would be an ocean full of words written within them. 

“So, show me.” 

It took damn near the rest of the early morning hours, but he showed her. Breathed out every single drop of love until it overflowed upon her, sinking into her skin; invisible bold, bands only he knew existed. Marking her with his touch, his mouth and words that would not fly away, but sealed themselves in the depths of her heart. As they lay entwined and spent upon the bed, her soft breathing telling him she was asleep. He watched her peaceful face until the fire grew dim in the stove once more. She belonged to him, he felt it deeper than anything he’d ever known. Even that mistake made so long ago -- but this was so much bigger. It filled all the empty spaces the other never could; seeping into the tortured cracks he had tried to fill with all the wrong things. His hand stroked down the smooth pale skin of Lorna’s back, and felt her snuggle in closer. The other hand rested upon her head, holder it close to his heart. Feeling the faint beat of her heart where it was pressed against his own, it occurred to him how soundly he always slept when she was beside him. Eyes closing in darkness and opening to light – as though it had crept softly upon him, suspending the shadows, while he dreamed. One last kiss upon her brow, and closing his eyes, James fell into a deep sleep. 

And all his dreams were of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Have to admit it_  
>  Your kisses are sweet  
> The first taste of honey  
> I'm startin' to see  
> And I have to admit that I'm glad, I found you my love  
> Such a beautiful light in this dark and sometimes cruel world 
> 
> _When you smile at me I'm inclined to believe everything's right_  
>  Dark turns to light with your eyes and it's a beautiful world  
> The past melts away when you're here, I forget what I should  
> I'll be the love of your life if you stay with me tonight 
> 
> ~ Beautiful World, Aiden Hawken


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light comes softly and pushes back the darkness, as James horrible past is surrendered.  
> NSFW/18+
> 
>  
> 
> _You may need me there_  
>  To carry all your weight  
> But you're no burden I assure  
> You tide me over  
> With a warmth I'll not forget  
> But I can only give you love
> 
>  
> 
> _Fall on me, tell me everything you want me to be_  
>  Forever with you  
> Forever in me  
> Ever the same  
> Call on me  
> I'll be there for you, and you'll be there for me  
> Forever it's you  
> Forever in me  
> Ever the same
> 
>  
> 
> ~ Ever The Same: Robert Thomas

The Captain’s Cabin briefly became a cozy lover’s retreat.  
Any knock upon the door the first day met with either a growled _fuck off_ from James, or a disheveled Lorna discreetly opening the portal just enough to take a tea tray from Robert’s hands. The boy’s face split in a wide grin. How many times did they reach for one another during the following days and nights? James lost count; only knew that it would never be enough. His own nature was never to do anything half way; and once the voices were silenced and ghosts confined to their watery graves, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the task of discovery and exploration of every aspect of her person. Well pleased to find Lorna to be of a similar nature; easily treading both his moods and his passions. His advances were welcomed with an ease that only grew his confidence, and he loved the way she pulled him to her when the mood would strike. How she opened to him; even when he was not always gentle. She’d arch into the experience, never holding back her pleasure, but zealously pursuing it until he was completely besotted with every sound he could summon from inside her. How she moved in perfect rhythm while he worshiped every inch of her with a relentless driving urge. 

Sometimes she would coyly submit; only to surprise him by climbing astride and riding his swollen length with such fervor he’d grip the sides of the bed, willing his desire to remain in check long enough. Her eyes never leaving his until the climax rocketed through her body. She was complete abandon and sweetly shy when seeking his instruction, and the mixture of the two had him thoroughly ensnared. The way she’d smile and shrug when he caught her gaze roving over his half naked body as he moved about the room in only his shirt. That crooked smile of hers that melted his heart. But when she took him in her mouth, pressing her tongue into the tip, and worked his long length until he thought his entire being would explode from the pleasure, he was sure it was designed for sin instead. There was nothing he would change about her. She was imperfect, and perfectly his. 

It was her curiosity that intrigued him the most, for it knew no bounds. She would ask him everything if he had the patience to listen; and he did. He swore he must have described every single animal he’d encountered on his travels. Sitting by the windows with the setting sun at their backs, or in the evening by the fire; her arms wrapped around him, chin resting on his shoulder, while he sketched whatever she requested. He’d managed to trick her a few times, and she’d push him away with a laugh; but she kept every single one. The trunk filling with his drawings. When the afternoon turned too cold and rainy to finally venture forth, they spent the time writing letters to one another. Romantic or witty tomes, and a few risqué – courtesy of James - that brought both laughter and tears. Lorna smiling softly when she noticed he had included a favourite line from a soliloquy she’d performed at one of their group dinners. And so his father’s trunk once more brimmed with inked memories; of truth… and this time love. Their story one forged by the flames, but never to succumb to the burning.  
~  
The next day, James sat at the table writing letters in preparation for their landing, while Lorna sat nearby in a chair reading a play. Her eyes appeared fastened on the pages, as each one was turned in appropriate time, but James casting his own side glances caught her covert gazes from under demure lashes. As the ship sailed further South, the mid-day temperatures would climb, heating the cabin considerably. James lounged in only his long shirt, bare legs folded beneath the table. While Lorna wore only a thin night shift, the curls at the nape of her neck already dampened with perspiration. James stretched forth his long legs under the table and arms high over his head, the blue shirt raising to reveal more of the dark lines upon his thighs. One eye peeked in her direction. He caught the raised brow and the way her lower lip was held between small, even teeth. A smile played about his mouth as he leaned further back, saw her eyes widen in surprise, as more tanned skin was revealed. Relaxing forward once more, elbows leaning on the table, and he swore he heard a sigh of disappointment escape. It wasn’t just his mouth that twitched this time, and he turned in the chair to face her, legs spread out wide in front of him. Hands rested on the crest of his thighs, a single paged letter held within one; but his gaze rested on her. Her eyes raked over the length of him, the play pages now dipping towards the floor. Lazily he reached the free hand up to rub upon his bare chest, where the shirt lay open in the heat. Lorna’s eyes followed every move of the fingers that scratched upon the furred expanse, then moved upward to reach his stubbled chin. Lean fingers worked through the beard along his jawline, then around the corners of his full mouth. He watched her chest rise, and then lifted his hand to rub his forehead, just above the eye where a scar had healed --- and then captured her gaze. 

“Enjoying the play love?”

If her roving eyes had not already given her away, the sudden flush that crept up her cheeks surely did. Lorna shifted slightly in her chair, hands fluttering about her breasts; fingering the swell of curves. James lips curled into a smile and his gaze briefly dipped. Her own gaze dropped to his bare legs, then slowly roamed back along the lines of his chest, lingering on the mouth that now smirked in the corners, before meeting his own once more. No, his feisty actress was not going to back down. The crooked smile flashed and she took his bait. 

“There are some worthy parts. A few… bold lines that capture one’s mind.” Her head tilted slightly, “Other parts, well… their usefulness quite escapes me at the moment.”

James wasn’t sure if it was her obvious desire, or her intelligent wit laced with a hint of sarcasm that was quickly stoking his passion, but he guessed the temperature had risen at least another five degrees within the cabin. He waited, knowing she’d meet the challenge. His usual grunt the only reply.

“Perhaps if they were as equally bold they might be more enticing. Then again, it’s only Act One, surely more will be revealed soon.”

James pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it upon the floor. The play book followed with a thud. He noted the small tongue that had darted out to moisten her lips.

“Well, usually an act doesn’t so quickly turn…”

“I’m certain the next one will be of a more leisurely pace.” 

His voice and gaze both thick with heat; he crooked a finger towards her. Lorna rose from the chair and wasted no time crossing the few feet of space between them, standing before his golden, marked naked body. James hands reached down, rough fingers grazing her skin as he raised her skirt; his hands settling upon her hips. Pulling her down upon his lap and then there was nothing but the blinding sensations spilling over them as skin met skin when her limbs slid over his own. His hands kneaded into the soft flesh of the curve of her hip, pulling her closer. Thighs already slick with the wetness that seeped from her. James leaned forward in the chair, as he hands slid up her back, holding her to him. Their mouths crashed together, devouring one another, until he pulled back determined to make this an unhurried coupling. His voice rasping his need in low guttural tones against her neck.

The folds of her dress were proving a cumbersome obstacle to how badly she wanted to be against his naked skin. To feel his heat radiate into her own. She moved to pull it over her head, but James hands stilled her own; a soft _tsk tsk_ sound escaping his pursed lips. Anticipation coiled along every nerve as she waited for him to remove it in one passionate sweep. Instead, he kissed her gently while his fingers trailed down the line of her neck and across her collarbones until they reached the straps of her shift. He hooked a finger under each strap, but didn’t sweep it down across her pale shoulders. Instead his fingers ran the length, slowly teasing the flesh beneath, until it reached the rise of her breasts, then continued along the swell at the laced edge. Curving around the sensitive sides as her body arched into him, and around the back – slowly tracing along her shoulder and upward until he was back at the start. Her breath came in shallow gasps, eyes gone limp with the waiting. This time he gently pulled the strap of one side down, lips tracing the same path, down the creamy shoulder and silky length of her arm and over her wrists; where his warm mouth placed a kiss. The bodice of the one side fell like a loosed sail and settled about her waist. Warm air teased the exposed nipple, and his eyes lingered upon the full breast for a few moments, before turning his attention to the other strap. Her whole body held rigid in almost agony as he did the same slow, dance upon her skin on the other side. His head dropped to rest just above her exposed breasts, but he refrained from touching. Until he raised her up to standing and the dress formed a puddle upon the floor. Pressing his mouth upon the soft roundness of her stomach, the roughness of his beard raising red rashes upon the pale skin, and he felt her body shake beneath his hands. His voice rich and low with desire.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

Lorna straddled him, raising slightly before settling upon his lap once more. Felt his hard thickness probing at her centre. Her arms clasped his strong shoulders. She nuzzled into his neck, breath warm and kisses hot, while his hands roamed her entire length. From the curve of her buttocks tracing up the long curve of her spine, and reaching up to pull the pin from her hair. It fell like a rippling curtain of flame about them. His hands tangled in the mass of rich curls while his mouth ravished her own. Her heart beat wildly as they got lost in each other. Rough hands exploring every inch, burning into her skin. Of a mind of their own, her hips rocked back and forth; gliding her wet opening across his throbbing length. Her head swimming in the sensations that enveloped her entire body. James gripped the back of her thighs, adjusting her legs about his waist. Reaching under to bring her up against his body. The friction created by her rubbing upon his swollen cock almost his undoing. Her head thrown back and breasts thrust forward, he flicked his tongue upon each nipple; felt them harden under the teasing play. He pulled one after the other into his mouth, while his arms held her tight within their strong circle. Lorna collapsed against him, her mouth devouring his neck, the sensitive lobes of his ears, his chest – taking full possession of him. James heard the purring from deep in her throat and thought he’d go mad with wanting inside her. Knowing the pleasure to be found between her thighs to be more than just desire; but an offered promise. Her hands came to rest on each side of his head, holding his gaze and he stroked the long length of her hair. Saw the question in the depths of her eyes. How she searched his own depths and seeing he was fully here with her; gave herself completely up to him. 

Lifting her up, he pushed himself deep inside and her silken heat nearly drove him right to the brink. Groaning her name into the soft curve of her throat as she moved upon him. Hands digging into her soft flesh, he drove himself upward, reaching her secret place. Soft hands gripped his shoulders and nails tore at his flesh as he brought her to the pitch of ecstasy. His thrusts begin slowly, but soon he’s lost in the swelling sensations of her breasts bouncing before him, her moans in his ears, and the way her hair teases across his face and chest. How they move together like the tides beyond. The impending crash upon the shore inevitable. Timeless. Gasping and hearing his own moans mingling with her own, he falls into ecstasy alongside her. Lavishing hot kisses on her body wherever he could reach. Rocking her body against his own; each thrust sending her spiraling higher and higher. Kisses and thrusts both long and deep, their bodies fused as one. Each sensation another revival of what had once been lost to him. Restoring what had been shattered and calling up from the depths what he had buried; bringing him back to life. He was the kerosene and she was the flame, and he wanted this fire to burn his long imposed numbness into submission. Close to the edge and he knew he should pull back – knew the risks - but he can’t stop even if wanted to. This need to empty himself within her a driving, unsettling urge. Love soaked words whispered on the glistening canvas of her body as the rhythm deepened. The beads of her love dripped down between them coating their thighs. Felt the crescendo swell inside her until it shook and burst all around him. Mouth and fingers sculpted her until every muscle stretched and spent; she begged him for release. Her whispered _please_ took him in a melted heap. They glowed and kissed and breathed in synch, until his hunger now impatient carried them over the peak of passion. Deep and tight in pleasure sublime he poured his heat into her. The embers of his heart scorched upon her own. Bodies and souls a quivering inferno. 

They fell panting against one another, James leaning back in the chair and holding her tightly against his chest. His mouth nuzzling behind her ear. The roughness of his beard tickling the tender skin and causing her to flinch away with a laugh. She kissed him hard and long. Then pulled back and he saw the teasing glint in her eye and how she glowed from within. Her palm caressed his check, then glided down to his chest where it came to rest over his heart. His head tilted in wonder at her still aroused look.

“You know there’s only a fifteen minute intermission between Acts, right?”

“Mauhau.”

~

As had become their habit, they spent the evening by the fire talking of the past and now their future. Exhausted from their couplings, she fell asleep and awoke to discover James drawing his quill over the curve of her backside. Stretching over her shoulder to see, her brow furrowed and eyes wide, “James if you are drawing a whale on my ass, I swear to…”  
His laughter rang out in the cabin, partly because he loved her pert ass, which certainly had no whale like attributes, and secondly at how she twisted about to see what the hell he’d drawn, sending them both off balance. Taking pity on her, he grabbed his shaving mirror and held it to her backside. It was an anchor.  
“Oh, well fine then.”  
And her smile was genuine. He vowed he’d make it real when they reached port. A little secret only he would know. _Fluctuat nec mergitur_ – it suited her perfectly.

Growing tired of his own voice, he pulled her down upon his chest and she began to speak of her own past. Fingers absently tracing the dark bands along his arms and chest. So much about her fell into place when he learned she had grown up in an orphanage. She had no family at all, and it was no wonder she sought a home; even the “shitty house” of the Delaney’s. His brave little actress had truly been alone in this world, and it only made her courage and capacity to love completely so much more endearing. She loved the stage because it allowed her to be someone else – for so much about herself was a blank slate. She stood up to recite Shakespeare for him; the fire glowing on her naked body and each strand of her long hair a dancing flame. He swore he might just take a liking to theatre after all. After, she wrapped herself all around him; raining kisses where her fingers already trailed. Her touch meant everything to him and it was mere moments before he pressed her back upon the blankets and made love to her by the fire. They fell asleep naked and sated, wrapped in one another.

On the third night she awoke alone in the bed, a chill having settled upon her naked flesh. A glance about the cabin revealed James by the fire like some naked bronzed statue forged in the flames. Strange words fell on her ears, and as she came closer she noted that he was covered in soot and ash, with painted lines upon his face. Curious, but hesitant to intrude, she stood silently at the edge watching his movements; a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Recalling how he had told Atticus just days before they were nearing the blockade, and she knew the worry he sought to bury. Quietly she let the chant wash over her. Though he did not turn his head, James reached out a hand and taking it she sat beside him. When he looked at her, it was as though he was far away, his eyes not truly seeing; but she felt no fear – just a deep sense of calm. Finally his eyes held her own and raising a finger, he drew a line of paint down each cheek, followed by the slim line of her nose, down to her mouth where his finger briefly rested on the rosebud of her top lip before continuing down to her chin. Returning to his paints once more, he dipped several fingers and then traced them down her collarbones, her slender arms, ending at her pale hands. Lorna sat transfixed, the words he uttered meaningless to her, yet still speaking something into her spirit. When he was done with his painting, he scooped some ash-like powder into his hands, indicating that she should do the same. She leaned forward and followed his lead; the ash warm and chalky upon her palms, then watched as he blew the ash into the fire. Taking a deep breath she did the same, and turning caught the ghost of a smile upon his mouth; his eyes shining as he stared back at her before once again closing and the chanting continued. Though she knew not the purpose, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the lilting cadence of his words, the warmth of the fire, and didn’t even think it odd that she awoke in the bed come morning light – as though no time had passed at all. 

~

Three days they remained in the cabin exploring and discovering one another in this new way. Though James would sneak out while she slept, returning with food and wine; not a soul aboard daring to knock upon their door after that first day. Finally having the full knowledge and security of her love surrounding him, his dark past began to unravel. His heart in his hands when he spoke of the horrors he had done. Terrible acts for which there will be no redemption. Breaking down within her arms, wracked with guilt and pain over the blood he can never wash from his hands. Every moment wondering if this is the one where she will turn from him and flee his darkness. This irredeemable soul of his now caught and bound with her own. But she never does. No lies pass her lips, but above all she never lets him forget the tender years that came before the terrible trauma. That once upon a time -- he was whole. Her strength allows her to absorb it all and still walk in love. It was a mystery to him how she just took it all in, every sin and crime, and returned it back to him – molded into something new. After so many years of carrying this pain as his most trusted companion and guilt his bedfellow, it was this truth that finally set him free. That was what her love allowed, and what it freely gave; the gift of his true self. A wholeness of spirit and unfettered heart that he had forgotten. And now he wasn’t afraid to pick it back up again and carry it forward. 

A woman searching for a home, a man trying to find his way home, and somehow they met at the crossroads. Or maybe that Delaney madness held a little magic after all. Either way, it was a meeting perfectly timed to ensure two lonely hearts were perfectly tuned to one another. With a deep exhale surrendered, he cast his tortured thoughts upon the sea and the brokenness that had bound him began to loosen. Pain no longer a humming in the recess of his mind. Stained fingers traced the ink whorl that branded her his talisman, while he inhaled the bright promise of tomorrow. He slept the deep sleep of the unburdened; their breath mingling upon the soft pillows. Beyond the darkened windows the ship cruised upon the eternal tides and the evening star faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Fluctuat nec mergitur_
> 
> French motto: She is tossed by the waves; but does not sink.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter concerning several important conversations, the appeal of Lorna's skirts... and the importance of any man's words.  
> Even when he is dead ass tired. Especially then.

With a deep groan and a muttered curse, James pulled away from the delicate skin his mouth had been feasting upon, a withered glare cast towards the insistent knocking upon the door. The third such occurrence in a short span of time that had interrupted their attempts at an early morning tryst. Another groan as he lifted himself from her warm, soft form already pliant and yearning beneath his skilled hands and mouth. Lorna’s fingers trailed down the firm muscles of his back, a light squeeze on his backside and his head dipped down to kiss a breast. She whispered against his temple. 

“I think our grace period is over.”

James head lifted to catch her gaze, a frown carving his features and solemnly nodded in agreement. The first two summons upon the portal went unanswered, but the persistence of this latest intrusion confirmed that their time alone indeed had come to an end. Though his mouth still dropped to claim the other breast; breathing warm air over the moistened and hardened tip. Fingers gripped his scalp and he swirled his tongue around the nipple, but her hands drew him away from the aroused peak. 

“James, you are the Captain of this ship.”

“Hhhmmm, yes I am and I’m busy trying to board it...” His tongue fastened on the other nipple, tugging it gently between his lips, and though her whole body ached with want, she clamped a hand over his mouth as she laughed. 

“James. The door. Maybe they will go away if you just speak to whoever it is.”

Another petulant grunt as he rolled away, standing naked beside the bed with a full erection and strutted towards the door.

“James don’t you dare…”

Too late, the door was swung open to reveal Mr. Cholmondeley on the other side, whose eyes briefly dipped to see James half concealed naked body. Without missing a beat he quipped.

“Well, turnabout is fair play I see Mr. Delaney.”

James grunted.

“Your presence is urgently needed on the main deck.”

“My presence is urgently needed here.” James leaned forward and whispered with brows raised, “or you know….poison.” He placed a finger on the side of his head. 

No small amount of tension circled between the two men; though James was not really of a mind to rub the mans’ nose in the matter. He simply made his statement as a matter of fact. For his part, Cholmondeley was no sore loser since he never really thought he stood a chance in the first place. He was a man content with what may come, and still could recall the feel of a door in his face. Though he enjoyed the lovely lady’s company whenever so graced. 

“So release your poison quickly Sir and come up on deck.” He shifted slightly to see if he could glance around James broad shoulders. “Unless the two of you aren’t interested in seeing land.”

“Land?” 

Lorna rose up from the bed, the sheets wrapped tight around her bosom. Seeing _come what may_ had arrived, Cholmondeley took a step around James and into the room, his eyes taking in the unbound hair that fell about her pale shoulders and how she glowed from within the bed. 

“Yes Miss Bow… they’ve spotted land. A way off as yet, but nonetheless, there… just waiting.” 

“But what land. Are we at America already then James?”

“No, it’s some Caribbean island likely, if you would like to come…”

Cholmondeley made to take another step towards her, but the strong arm of James came against his chest, pinning the man where he stood. If that was not sufficient a reproach, the keen glare fixed upon him would have just as easily done the trick. 

“You may tell Atticus, _Mrs. Delaney_ ” James paused, eyes narrowed, “and myself will be along momentarily.”

Knowing a dismissal when it was presented, Cholmondeley merely nodded his head and backed out the door with a dramatic flourish.

_“The expense of spirit in a waste of shame; Is lust in action; and till action, lust….”_

The door was closed before he could finish, a confused frown upon James face regarding his parting words. From within the bed Lorna suddenly cleared her throat. At James raised brow, she simply shook her head back and forth, then dropped the covers from around her chest. The heat entered his eyes, but what always compelled him was the little glimpse of vulnerability her own retained when her nakedness was revealed. Though there was nothing more beautiful to him than moments such as these. Nothing more enticing than her stretched out and moving beneath him. But it’s her eyes he wants to see. The look that tells him it’s all love, this thing she keeps pouring into his abyss. A bottomless carafe of which he will never fully know the depths. Crossing the room and crawling in beside her, he held her gaze … her soft sighs and his hands telling him the rest.  
~  
The gulls were circling the ship constantly now, though land was still not seen with the naked eye. Lorna stretched her neck way back, shielding her eyes with a hand, to find James high up in the rigging. A spyglass was raised in his hands as he scanned the distant horizon and conversed with the navigator beside him. Several other crew, duties temporarily forgotten, had gathered along the ships bow and sides to look out over the vast sea, hopeful for a glimpse of land. Until Atticus set them all about their work once more. Recent storms had left a good amount of water within the ships hold, and with barrels of gunpowder reclaimed from the doomed pirates once again safely stored, extra bailors were required. His eyes fell on Lorna where she stood, eyes glued on James rather than the waters, and he couldn’t help but think what a lucky bastard this devil of a man was for having acquired such a woman. He had hated calling him forth from the cabin, since he would have taken at least a week himself if he were so lucky. Her gaze lowered and shifted towards the sea, catching Atticus staring, and he dipped his head and offered a cheery _morning my lady_. Lorna smiled back and motioned the man forward. With a glance up at James, he slowly crossed the deck and stood before her. 

“Morning Atticus, is it true we should see land soon?”

He nodded, “Aye, m’am. If the wind continues strong like this, perhaps by morning we should reach the West Indies.”

“Not America then?”

“No m’am. Likely Montserrat, the port of Plymouth I’m guessing is James destination.”

“I see, thank you Atticus.” 

The sailor nodded his tattooed head and continued over to the mast James was currently descending. The two stood conversing while Lorna walked to the opposite side of the boat looking out over the cerulean blue waters. A pair of elbows leaned upon the ships edge beside her own, and she glanced over to find William’s inquiring eyes upon her.

“Been a few days dear.” His frown betraying the thoughts in his head. “You are well?”  
Keen eyes scanned her features, the faded bruise his own hand had inflicted, the brush of colour upon her cheeks despite being indoors for days, and the brightness of her eyes. “Never mind the question. Any fool can see you are most well.” The frown deepened.

Lorna half chuckled, “And that displeases you so?”

He leaned towards her. “No. It displeases me to see you dishonored.”

Lorna immediately turned towards him, a hand raised. “I assure you William, I am not. Most definitely.” She turned back to the sea. “I know it might look that way to you, but you don’t know…”

“I know that you deserve better than to be hidden away in a cabin. To be used…”

Lorna’s head snapped around, “I am seldom used, and most assuredly not in this particular case. And if you continue the suggestion, our acquaintance shall be forfeit.”

A deep sigh escaped the gentleman. “Look, any fool can see that you are happy.” A defeated smile engraved upon his face. “Also that you love him.” His eyes drifted towards where James still conversed with Atticus and the navigator, but he could feel the mans’ eyes warily upon them. “And not a single man on this ship doubts our fearless Captain is completely in love with you. But I still am curious as to what his intentions may be.” His head leaned close. “Only because I care about your welfare Lorna. I would be remiss in my duties as a friend if it were not so.”

She lay a hand upon his arm, “I know William and I thank you for that care, but I am happy and I do love him. This is my choice… and I’m at peace with it.”

He knew he tread dangerous ground. That even from across the deck her lover could easily see how he caressed her with his own eyes. But damned if he didn’t think she deserved some kind of spoken promise and it left him unsettled to think it is was not forthcoming. His gaze shifted to James and their eyes locked, the tension felt between them. Lorna seeing the direction of his gaze, glanced towards James and noted the subtle hint of violence behind his glare. 

“Please William, do not start trouble. Please I beg you, give him a chance.”

Once more he looked down, the plea in her eyes piercing his heart. A shrug of his shoulders and a deep sigh as he turned towards the waters.  
“I assure you dear, I have nothing against the man in truth, and I will say no more on the matter. I only seek to ensure you are taken care of. And happy. And, it seems that you are.” He leaned away, hoping to avoid that brooding stare from across the deck. “I will only let you know this: if there is ever need – you have my sword.” 

His hand lifted and rested on his heart, and with that he left her standing alone. A nod and tip of his hat towards James before he disappeared down the ladder leading to the galley. Lorna breathed in the fresh salty air, a feeling of unease settling upon her nerves. The gulls squawked overhead and the rush of waves and wind added to what should have been a peaceful setting. She watched the ship plunge through the frothy seas, felt the cool spray and the warmth of this new sun, but still couldn’t seem to find a measure of peace. Booted steps sounded behind her and she immediately stiffened, knowing that tread. 

Familiar hands settled upon her waist and her breath caught that he would handle her person so familiarly in front of others. His nature normally so reserved and stoic. William’s words echoed in her mind regarding the obvious nature of his feelings towards her, and she couldn’t help but smile at his possessive bent. Turning her head she caught his eyes intently upon her; but a softness held instead of the hard gleam she expected. His smile was easy and his manner relaxed. 

“The gentleman is persistent.”

She quickly turned to reassure him, but James stopped her with a grunted “ahh.” Still, there seemed to be no anger within him and she wondered at his casual regard of the matter. 

“I remember once being so protective regarding anothers' intentions towards you. So much so I forbade the man to call on you.” A wry grin split his mouth. “It didn’t stop him from corresponding with you however. I suspect these two men will not be the last ones I have to chase away from your skirts.” 

There was no malice or ill intent in his words, as always, he simply stated a truth he knew. She smiled up at him and lay her palm on his chest.

“Well, it seems silly of such men, since I am clearly already caught.”

“Hhhhmmm, and this agrees with you?”

“Do you require another few days inside as proof?” Her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

“No, I don’t.” He stepped close, his lips pressing near the side of her head, “but I’ll not refuse your tempting offer if you insist, my love.” 

His cheek rested within inches of her own, their mouths turned towards one another, the need to touch sending tremors along their skin. Still, she would have this matter cleared. 

“James, he only seeks to see that I am well. Taken care of. That’s all. He will not interfere.”

His head nodded against her own, lips grazed her cheek. The fingers upon her waist tightened their grip as he pulled her closer, moved his mouth closer to her ear.  
“And what did you tell him?”

Her voice was a breathless whisper across his roughened cheeks already stung by the ocean wind, “Just that I am happy… and that I love you.” She placed a quick kiss upon his whiskered cheek.

A soft chuckle escaped him, “Ouch, cruel maid – I bet that stung. Is that all then?” He sought her gaze this time, “What of care? Did you tell him what you were owed?”

Her brows knit together, head tilted back as she met his gaze, her mind searching his meaning. She knew that William’s objection was with regards to the lack of a marriage proposal; given their three day confinement to his cabin. She highly doubted James was referencing the same, or that he had any concerns regarding such propriety. This was the ship of the damned after all. Yet, she had expected bristling anger from him after witnessing the exchange between them, and instead he seemed rather amused by it all. He was in every way an unopened box constantly surprising her whenever she raised the lid. As though he read her mind and sought to prove the point, he leaned in closer, mouth briefly capturing her own before he pulled back and whispered against her still parted lips. 

“ _A lifetime of care. A lifetime of devotion… kisses and love, a home and a fire… and perhaps children someday._ Hhmmm? Does he know your wants… desires… your heart?”

Her knees were threatening to buckle beneath her as the low timbre of his voice stirred her soul with the repetition of her own words. His mouth continually grazing her skin and his eyes piercing straight to her heart. He gathered her closer still. So close his lips and the rich smoothness of his voice glided over her skin with each slow word uttered. 

“Oh Lorna, we’ve left the cursed house by the river and the Americas are near… where we will live naked and savage and have each other.” The soft brush of his mouth as it pressed against the column of her throat; lips trailing back to her ear, “I know your heart, yes?”

Her hands gripped the front of his shirt and her head dropped to his chest, slowly nodding. A few moments passed before she raised her head once more. 

“And you? What do you want James … besides people with the willingness to do what you ask. Do you dare for more?”

His head turned to look out over the sea and his hands dropped from her waist. Turning from her embrace, briefly he stood silent. When his gaze returned, she saw the wetness he fought to restrain from spilling. The grim set of his jaw where the words he sought to loose had stuck. She lay a hand upon his arm and he glanced down at the contrast of her pale fingers upon his tanned skin, before meeting her own gaze again. Catching his reflection in the watery depths. 

“I would do better than my father… and not keep my treasure on a shelf to gather dust and be forgotten.” Lean, tanned fingers covered her own. “I promised you love, that I would take better care.”

Tears fell down her cheeks unchecked. “James…”

“When we get to port, I know a place. A private beach where we can go… free from prying eyes and interfering minds… and knocks on doors, for a time at least.” He stepped into her space once more, a hand upon her cheek where his thumb wiped away a tear. “Will you come with me?”

The vulnerability he couldn’t hide cut her to the quick. As if he actually entertained the notion she would reject his offer. A power over him that she did not wish to possess. Her hand covered his own and she raised on her toes to kiss him full on the mouth, not caring who should witness their exchange. Holding his head as carefully as she now fully understood she held his heart.

“Well, I’ve crossed an entire ocean with you. Would seem a shame not to test its waters. Would it not?” Her smile stretched from ear to ear and he could already feel an excitement bubbling within her. “I think I would like that very much Mr. Delaney.” The coy glance she bestowed almost making him call for the lowering of the rowboat and immediately venturing forth. Small teeth nipping her full bottom lip and her eyes glowing with craving that left him breathless, she pressed her curves close.

“Which one of us will be savage and which one is to be naked?” 

Her teasing question had an immediate arousing affect upon him, and it was impossible to contain his own smile. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned down and replied in a husky tone.  
“I believe the more important matter, is that we will _have_ each other.” Stepping back he cast a wink before striding back across the desk to make arrangements.  
Her breathless _oh my_ carried away upon the wind.

She had mere moments to compose herself before Godfrey appeared on the main deck with a pouting, reluctant Robert shuffling in his wake. She recognized the text books they had been working on before the pirate attack – and her three day seclusion with James – interrupted their studies. The look he cast her was not well pleased. 

However, Robert’s delighted grin might just be her salvation in this delicate matter. As he ran towards her and hugged about her skirts, she suddenly realized with a pain how much she had missed the young boy. Hugging him fiercely, she caught James backward glance upon them. It earned her another wink and just like that, her measure of peace was restored

~

The tall, lean form suddenly stepped forth from the shadows to block James progress through the passageway leading to the ships hold. Even in the darkened interior, he knew immediately who halted his steps. An errant beam of light from a porthole shone upon his golden locks – but James knew of only one person aboard his ship who would dare such an affront. A long inhale of breath that he held while he fixed the daring man with his best brooding glare. The two men stood silently staring for several minutes. It was William who broke first.

“You strike me as a man who values honesty Mr. Delaney, so I will not insult you with a lie. You may be the Captain of this ship, upon which I am most earnestly grateful to have been granted passage, but my loyalty lies with the Lady. If… ever she should require it.” 

His eyes didn’t waver from James glare, though the tensing of the man’s jaw caused a small knot of fear in his throat. He spread his hands, palms up, before him and softened his tone. “However, I have no wish, desire… or intent, to intrude upon anothers' happiness. Or where love already blooms.” 

His head ducked briefly, before meeting James calm gaze again. “She does you know. Love you.” His head shook back and forth, a mild look of surprise on his face. “And she doesn’t give her heart to just anyone. But I suspect you know that.”

James stood quiet, letting the man have his say, suspecting that they were delivered with no small amount of humility; despite the obvious inherent challenge. 

A small laugh escaped the man who now stood shuffling from one foot to the other. “I thought it best we clear the air James… if I may?” James nodded his consent of the use of his given name; his respect begrudgingly rising by the moment. “I truly do not seek any conflict. Just Lorna’s welfare, on my word as a gentleman.”

James grunted once, nodded and moved to step past. 

“You’re a lucky man.”

James paused and turned once more, meeting William’s earnest gaze. “I know.”

William half smiled, “Which part?”

This time James turned fully around and came to stand directly before the man whose good intentions were in danger of being bested by his audacity.

“I do value honestly, Mr. Johnston,” his refusal to address him via his given name not lost on William, “and while I do appreciate yours, know this; if you do intrude, or continue to press me past my goodwill – you will never look upon the lady again.”

William met the steeled gaze and knew for once he faced a worthy opponent. Oddly it gave him a measure of comfort in knowing that she would always be protected. That no one would ill use her without facing this man’s wrath and vengeance. He didn’t doubt it would be swiftly delivered. He considered James, found him steadfast. 

“I wonder if you will choose gun or steel.” 

James grunted before a knowing smile flashed and he shrugged his shoulders casually. “Oh it won’t be my choice Mr. Johnston… the lady will not easily forgive your affront and deal with you as per her own wishes.”

James stepped closer, as he grabbed William’s impeccable coat. “Am I lying?”

Thus making his point, he turned his back and continued down the passageway. William, waiting until he was far enough way, muttered a _confident bastard_ into the air.

But no one was listening.

~

Stifling one of many numerous yawns, James pulled Lorna into the crook of his shoulder and kissed the very breath from her body. His hand held firmly upon the back of her head as the kiss deepened and lengthened for several minutes before she firmly pushed upon his chest. Pulling back to meet his tired gaze.

“You’re trying to get me to stop talking, aren’t you?”

As many men before him over the previous centuries, even normally filter free and fearless James carefully considered his reply. 

“That depends, will you be rowing the boat to the island tomorrow?” Another yawn escaped. 

How her mouth compressed into a thin line suggested that was perhaps not the correct answer. Or question. She rolled over onto her back and was silent. Finally. 

Exhaustion was quickly overtaking him, having already completed one alarmingly passionate pursuit of pleasure. Which occurred in the passageway before they even made it inside their cabin, when he had encountered Lorna as she exited the water closet. Not of mind to resist her clean and fresh smelling, still half wet and nearly naked form; he pressed her back up against the wall, while her quick fingers unfastened his trousers. Lifting her from underneath, her legs had wrapped securely about his waist before he’d even caught his own breath, and his hard bulge barely free of her soft hands before he was driving himself deep inside. Mouth fastened on the still damp with water drops pale throat, he sucked and lightly nipped as his thrusts held her up against the rough wood walls. Nails digging into his shoulders to hold on, and her heels gripping his thrusting buttocks. He took her with little gentleness, almost merciless – her moans filing the passageway and driving his need hard and fast. The tension from his conversation with William played upon his mind; no doubt the cause behind this fierce possession of her body. It wasn’t the longest coupling, but what it lacked in duration, it surely made up in passion. Now he just wanted to cradle her close and drift into a dreamless slumber before their departure in the morning. Land had been sighted in the near distance, thus the cause of her curious - and plentiful - inquiries. 

However he could tell from the irregular breathing and constant fidgeting, she was no where near settling for sleep as yet. He sensed her mouth open and closed at least a dozen times, the questions not passing her lips. Finally she drew a deep breath, and he braced himself for another inquisitive onslaught. 

“But James… where will we sleep? Outside?”

“Mmmm,nnnn.”

“On the beach…. right on the sand?!” 

Giving up the notion of sleep for several more minutes, he raised on an elbow and pulled her close with the other arm, kissing her soft and slow. 

“Yes, with a fire to keep us warm and the stars over our heads …” His mouth moved down her neck, across the curve of her breasts and then back up to meet her wondering eyes, “which will reflect in those warm eyes of yours while I make love to you.” 

He kissed her once more, whispered a _good night my love_ , and promptly rolled onto his back. One arm draped across her middle. 

Lorna stared wide eyed at the ceiling for several minutes imagining the scenario. Soon soft snoring was heard from beside her and the weight of his arm grew heavy. While her very blood seemed it pumped liquid fire to every nerve. Now she couldn’t wait to get there, and despite that anticipation, finally closed her eyes on a final thought. 

James Delaney didn’t often say much. But when he wanted, damn he was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shakespeare Sonnet 129 - opening lines


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves - words are coming.  
> It's a lengthy tome folks; but would you be in a hurry to leave a tropical island if you were alone with James?

It wasn’t so much the soft tug of wakefulness that pried one eye open, but an unnerving sense of being watched. A turned ear could detect no sounds beyond the cabin, including the ever present roll of the surf upon the ships’ hull. James squinted from within the blanket snuggled up close about his chin to find a pair of eyes upon him; shining like sunlight through a jar of honey. His brow knitted together as he studied the attentiveness and unbridled excitement within their depths. While his own still held the glazed over remnants of sleep. Rubbing his knuckles across their heavy lids, James couldn’t even remember if he had dreamed. As had been the rule of late, since she had started sharing his bed, his eyes closed in darkness and often woke up to light. The drowsy years of numb resignation and sufferance that had passed drifting away like cobwebs swept from the corners. Sometimes an unrelenting spirit could be annoying and he felt a fleeting grumpiness as he returned her gaze; willing a scowl forth. It was no use: waking up had become an unexpected pleasure. One he would not easily surrender and his smile reflected that truth. In the early morning light her eyes glowed with all the colours of chocolate and umber, reflecting the raw emotions and eagerness of life that was her essence. 

“Did you sleep at all?

Lorna nodded her head. “Of course. You were snoring again.” 

Those orbs now glowed with humour and playfulness, and despite his somber nature, pulled him into their warm embrace. As his father once wrote about her _dark cinnamon_ tresses, he could find a hundred ways to describe her eyes. Transparent as a lake holding its mysteries deep in the dark chocolate iris, but a sense of openness within the golden flecks. Always managing to stir life within him. 

“Oh it must be awful to be kept awake, hhmm?”

He softened the teasing jab by pulling her closer and bestowing a morning kiss. Then another. Another lingering sweep of his lips… until she let up the halfhearted retaliatory pinch on his shoulder. With a growl into her neck, he pulled her on top his own body, roamed his hands down to grasp her backside with a lusty squeeze. Pulling at the folds of her night shift trying to reach the soft skin hidden beneath, and thought ahead to how he couldn’t wait to have her naked upon the sandy shores. His body immediately responding to that thought and she smiled down at him through a veil of flame, rubbed against his growing hardness. Impatiently he pushed the material aside and stroked her delicate centre, finding her already wet and ready. So pleased that she displayed equal fervor for him, he groaned deep and pressed his face into the valley of her breasts. She clasped his head close, breath panting in his ear. Grasping about her waist, he was just about to roll her on her back, when she wiggled free and pushed him back upon the pillows. 

Sliding her slender form down the length of him. Hot breath and mouth skimming over the thin flesh of his ribs, across his toned stomach, and pausing where the line of coarse hair ended. She rubbed her lips across the tip of his hard shaft and James propped himself up on elbows to watch the way her lips teased the smooth head. The soft waves of her hair gently teasing his thighs while her mouth slowly took him in – glimpsing every inch devoured into warm moistness and he knotted the sheets between clenched fists. She backed off and returned to the sensitive underside and he growled aloud, entire body a tensed spring about to bounce. Slowly taking him in again, wrapping her soft lips about him and James knew she was burning her own kind of brand upon him. The pleasure of her lips sliding rhythmically over him a mind-blowing torture he’d never experienced with another. That she desired to give him this intense gratification - so sensual and intimate – captured not just his body, but bound his heart ever closer. The cabin filled with the sound of her name and he realizes with a start it’s coming from his own mouth. A pounding in his head that threatens to burst every nerve when he felt the back of her throat … the tingling burn running down his back and straight to his throbbing cock, blood pumping in his ears, pounding….

Suddenly she pulled off him, eyes wide and then glancing to the door, while James sucked air into his lungs, sure he might actually faint. 

He growled between clenched teeth. “I’ll fucking kill whoever that is.”

Lorna smiled softly, eyes holding both pity and a hint of humour, and pulled the sheet over his erection. Then crossed to answer this latest summons upon their door. James lay back on the pillow, eyes trying to focus on anything but the unrelenting throbbing pressure still building. 

With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure James was ready, she noted the flush that infused his face and the glassy sheen to his gaze. Holding her chuckle, she swung the door open to find Atticus standing there – he had a measure of decency in looking somewhat contrite. 

“Beggin yer pardon Mrs. Delaney, a word with the Captain if I might?”

Lorna smiled her greeting and spread her arm towards where James reclined within the bed. Atticus took several steps before he was met with a brooding glare and a tone laced with sarcasm. 

“I commend you on your excellent timing.”

Atticus shrugged and cast a lecherous grin. “Yeah well, yer always like this now aint’ ya? 

“Muaua.”

~

Lorna ducked outside the room to use the water closet while the two men conversed. A shadowed figure stood at the end of the passageway just near the bottom of the ladder. 

“Who is there?”

Pearle stepped forth from the shadows and Lorna hurried to her side, pulling her into an embrace. 

“Oh my goodness, I had no idea what had happened to you Pearle! I am so sorry, but I didn’t see you anywhere on the pirate ship and in all the fear and seeing William… oh hell, I’m horrible person, aren’t I?” 

Pearle squeezed her close and shook her head, “It’s alright m’am, Sir William took really good care o’ me too. He kept me safe… well somewhat safe, I did make a bit o’ coin that is… he’s a proper gent ain’t he?”

Lorna let the “Sir” title slip by unremarked, “Yes, he is a good man and a gentleman and I am relieved to hear that he came to your aid as well.” She stepped back, “and I’m so sorry, I’ve ahhh... been a bit detained since we returned…” She faltered, no excuse truly sufficient in covering her lack of kindness or assistance to the only other female aboard. 

Pearle grinned wide, as her eyes drifted towards the Captain’s Cabin where Atticus and James voices could be heard. “Ohh, I don’t blame ya none m’am. Not at all. Cap’n is a right proper man too and I wouldn’t be leaving his bed iffen he had chose…” Her cheeks blushed realizing what had passed her lips, “um, sorry m’am, I met no offense.”

Lorna smiled and took her hand, “None taken Pearle. It is I who owes the apology for neglecting you during that terrible ordeal. But how did you get back?”

“William brought me to Bill, before he went after you cause he saw James and figured he would save you na problem. I was rowed back with them damn barrels that they done stole. My heart was beating more fear then when the pirates had me!”

Lorna laughed, “Well I am glad you are safely back with us. We must look out for one another better from now on, right?” Pearle nodded and smiled. “What brings you here? Did you need to speak with James?”

Pearle bit down on her lip, the hesitation written on her face. She shifted from one foot to another, eyes darting beyond Lorna; who glanced in turn behind her confused. Then remember her own need, she suddenly gasped and turned back.

“Do you have need of the facilities?” 

Pearle nodded, eyes huge in her pretty face. “I heard Robert say he had helped fill a tub once for ya. But I don’t need all that… just a proper toilet and maybe a bit of wash up.”

“Yes certainly. I was just coming out to use it myself. I’ll be quick about it and then please, do whatever you need.” Pearle nodded, the gratitude shining in her eyes. “And Pearle, please don’t hesitate to let me know when you have need again, please?”

Pearle hugged her once more. “Thank you m’am. Tis most grateful I am.”

“And call me Lorna, I insist.” 

So decided, Lorna took her turn in the water closet, and when she exited made quick plans for tea upon her return from the outing with James. Then listening at the door, she found all quiet within and entered to find James fully dressed and seated at the table. 

“Atticus gone already.”

He grunted a reply; eyes resting on her. 

“Was it very important? Did you finish the business?”

Another grunt. She sighed in exasperation, returned his glare, noting that a tint of passion still held about the edges. Crossing the room to stand before him, his hands immediately pulled her down upon his lap. She held back from his kiss, “James, did you not finish business?”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Ah, I see.” Smiling, she sank into his kiss, felt the fire still simmering. This time he pulled back, searched her gaze. 

“Atticus came to say all is ready for our departure. So, as soon as you can make yourself ready, my lady, we can be off.”

She immediately leaped from his lap, a flurry of gathering the necessary items she had prepared. 

“Everything is here… at least I hope, since I don’t really know. I just have to change… into … what exactly?” 

James came to stand behind her, arms wrapping around her middle while his mouth caressed a bare shoulder. “It will be hot during the day, and cool at night, that is the best I can offer.” He nuzzled into her neck and reached up to squeeze a breast. “Though I plan to have you in as little as possible most of the time.” 

Lorna turned in his arms, securing her own about his neck. Pulling his mouth to her own and kissing him soundly. He pressed his forehead to her own, a plea in his tone, “Please tell me that was not a onetime opportunity now gone.” 

She smiled, bite her lower lip, almost breathless at the rampant craving he didn’t even try to conceal. 

“Just get me to that beach Mr. Delaney.”

~

While they had slept, the ship had docked in the port of Montserrat. Already several of the crew had gone ashore seeking fresh supplies. Atticus personally taking care of the essential items James and Lorna would require for their adventure. While she stood on the deck, watching the row boat loaded with their supplies, James stood nearby assigning tasks to individuals in his absence. Robert would be with Cholmondeley seeking very specific supplies, and the rest of the time continue studies with Godfrey. Much to the boys disappointment. Atticus was to be in charge, second by French Bill, and as James spoke loudly to the others concerning the protection of his ship and those aboard it, his eyes rested on William. 

At the conclusion of his speech, he was about to cross the deck to Lorna, when a hand settled upon his arm.

“Mr. Delaney.”

James turned to find William standing at attention before him. His brow raised. He remained silent.

“I just want to assure that I will be most diligent in the guarding of this vessel and its persons. Despite any disagreement or conflict that may exist between us.” He touched the scabbard of his sword lightly. “I would not let such a thing prevent me from my duty, Sir.”

James nodded, a half bow offered. “Thank you Mr. Johnston.” 

Williams eyes drifted briefly across his shoulder, a gentlemanly nod in Lorna’s direction before he spun on his heel and what to make himself useful. James turned around to find Lorna’s curious gaze upon him.

He gave her a smile to assure her all was well, and moved to help with the lowering of the boat into the sea. 

~

Lorna leaned back in the boat, eyes lifted to the bright mid-day sun, as James rowed the boat towards the hidden cove. As they rounded a peninsula, Sugar Bay came into sight and her breath caught in her throat. Crystal clear waters the colour of watery gems and a white sand beach that seemed to stretch on forever. Palm trees leaning over the dunes like drop earrings. Never had she lay eyes on such a beautiful setting. Her head twisted and turned, trying to take it all in at once. When she turned back towards James, his eyes were watching her instead of the paradise that surrounded them. Her excitement like a drug in his veins and he was sure he never had done anything to make a person smile like that ever in his life. It only made him want to do more. 

When they got close enough to shore, James hopped out of the boat and dragged it up to the shore. Walking towards her end of the boat, he extended his hand and assisted her from the boat. Her error noticeable immediately as she gazed down at his already tanned feet… and her beautifully slippered – and now soaked feet. A wry smile twisted her face, while James shook his head and grasped her hand to lead her to shore.

Once there he guided her down up the sand, then kneeling before her, lifted a slender ankle. Gently he slipped her wet footwear from each foot and set them upon the sand. Eyes meeting her own, he glided the hand up the sodden stockings and finding the bow, slipped the knot with a flick of his wrist. Lorna’s mouth dropped open as he slowly peeled the hose down her leg. By the time his hand was gliding up the other leg to repeat the action, her heart was hammering inside her chest. As he slipped the second hose over her foot and tossed it upon the pile, her breath held and every nerve coiled with anticipation. James shook his head, and softly _tsk tsk_

“Aaah, we got work to do first love. Then play. 

He almost relented when her mouth pouted so prettily, only reminding him of earlier interrupted activities, and it was a supreme act of will to turn away from her and begin unloading supplies. With some relief, he noticed she wasted no time lending assistance. Soon all their supplies were unloaded and hauled to a spot James deemed suitable for camp. 

Over the next hour, they wandered the cove and inland gathering firewood and anything else that James thought might be useful. Lorna cheered him on while he climbed a tree for something he called coconuts. While she fixed a light repast, James used his knife to fashion a spear out of a piece of wood he had cut from a palm tree. Then proceeded to cut thick stalks of palm branches and leaves; throwing them into a pile. Patiently he showed her how to use the cut poles and leaves to fashion a lean to, and leaving her to that task, headed towards the water to catch fish for their dinner. Lorna soon began to sweat profusely; not being used to this kind of heat. Her garments becoming a sticky, clinging mess, and her hair a riot of untamed curls. Fingers cut and bleeding from twisting the cord about the poles and stuffing leaves in the gaps. She brushed her hand over her brow, depositing both dirt and blood, and looked out to the water to check on James progress. 

Her jaw dropped to her chest and a flush not caused by the heat of the day assaulted her entire body. He stood naked, the surf swirling about his banded thighs, and spear raised high. Like some bronzed god warrior risen from the sea. The spear quickly descended and her eyes fastened on the most glorious display of rippling muscle and tensed buttocks, until she felt positively faint. He stalked through the surf, eyes scanning the churning waters, and she suddenly wished she were the prey. The spear descended lighting quick a few more times and she could see the wriggling fish caught on its point. Satisfied, he turned about and waded through the shallows and strode back up the sand, unashamed of his nakedness, until he stood before her holding up the fish, with a victorious smile. Her jaw was still slack and she was certain she gulped on air at least once. James set the spear down and his eyes took in her disheveled and heated appearance and immediately pulled her towards him. She stumbled, legs weak, into his hold. 

“Aaha, you look like you need a cool swim love.”

She stood pliant as he pulled her dress over her head, hands pausing at the ties of her shift. She shivered at the touch of his warm hands, but met his eyes and nodded. This time James wasted no time with the untying and soon she stood naked upon the sand, casting nervous glances up and down the beach. He chuckled softly. 

“I assure you, there is no one here to see us.” 

And with that took her hand and lead the way into the warm waters. Any doubts or nervousness she had were soon washed away in the soothing seas. And the discovery of how good those muscles felt wet and gliding across her own soft form. Back on the beach, he quickly made a fire to chase the chill from their skins and made a few quick adjustments to their shelter in placing a tarp over the top to block both the heat of the sun, and in case it should rain. Lorna had lay the blankets and pillows underneath while he worked, and no sooner did he secure the final tie, she pulled him down and pressed him upon his back. A wicked gleam was in her eye and he damn near came before her mouth even touched him, the anticipation of finishing their morning business was so great within him. He should be embarrassed at how quickly it all transpired. But never having had all the sentiment and love wrapped within such an intense sexual experience, he was overwhelmed by all the emotions brought forth. He desired her fiercely and he loved her fiercely, and both threatened to consume him in those moments. Even though her mouth was working him into a frenzy, he pulled her off and quickly gathered her beneath him. He had intended to make it a slow and sensual union, but as soon as he was between her thighs, seeing her gaze at him with such equal passion; he plunged into her softness and was soon lost. What made their coupling so unique an experience, was that she matched each furious thrust with a relentless urge of her own; both of them panting and reaching for the finish. Her legs wrapped tight about his waist and hips raised to meet his own, taking him so deep in no time her walls were clenching around him. He loved watching the climax tear through her – how she gave herself completely over to it. To him. 

He pulled her up against his chest, her body already limp with the force of her climax. Adjusted her legs about him and fastened his mouth on every inch of skin he could reach, hands clasped beneath her so he could lift her up and down upon him. She clung to him and he felt the surge within her once more, slowing his thrusts to allow her time to join his own release. But he underestimated the level of desire he stroked within her, and she began to bounce in his lap; impaled upon his cock and then it was he who desperately clung. Every muscle straining and his teeth biting into the soft flesh of her neck. He was sure he was dying. That she’d rip every cell wide open until he had nothing left to pour into her. No sooner did the thought arrive, and his whole body jerked and the orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, pulling him under again and again. He moaned deep and long, fingers digging into the soft curve of her back as he clutched her close, and still he felt the hot jet spurting high inside. He felt her own head drop to his shoulder and a whimper escaped. His body still convulsing violently, he managed to lay them back down upon the blankets, still pulsing tight inside. A few more moments, as he could feel her body squeezing him in several aftershocks, and finally he collapsed with a groan; rolling beside her onto the sand. He pulled a light blanket over them, bringing her head down upon his chest. He breathed into her hair, inhaled the salty scent of the sea, and kissed her temple. 

“God I love you. Madly.”

Her reply came as though from far away, as he was pulled immediately into the deepest sleep. 

_He stood on the shore watching the waters. Everything seen as through a hazy mist. The witch was in the water again. His skin crawled and fear pricked his spine. As he drew nearer, one cautious step at a time, her form began to take shape. No black dress. Hair in neatly braided plaits. Her face painted in bright colours. She looked young. Hopeful. Full of life. And then James saw his mother smile. Before he could understand the change, she walked out of the water and into the forest. His gaze narrowed. The vision shifted._

_Another woman appeared. Younger still, hair also pleated in two long neat braids, but the flaming colour still visible. She waded in the river, splashing the water all around her, and her laughter bubbled forth like the trickle of a spring. She turned her face and a crooked smile shone back at him; the laugh line caught in dappled sunlight that filtered through the trees. Her face was also painted and as he squinted across the distance, he noticed it was letters. H.O.P.E upon her brow and LO blazed upon one cheek, while VE scrawled upon the other. Her form become blurry as she crossed the river towards him and he fought to hold the vision. Only realizing when she knelt before him and brushed slender fingers across his cheeks that he was kneeling in the wet sand; tears falling down his face. He fought for air, but this time he wasn’t being pulled under. He held her gaze as she took his hand and raised to him standing, then slowly led him along the river’s edge. They stopped at a fire and he suddenly knew that he’d never lack warmth again. Together they sat, hand in hand, while he watched the dancing flames through blurry eyes._

James was pulled from the depths of the dream and sat up upon the sand. Eyes instantly alert and searching; but it was not fear that awoke him. But an intense longing; as though he had misplaced something. He glanced down beside him where Lorna lay asleep, still curled close to where he had been laying. The flames of the fire glowed upon her skin and he noticed she must have braided her hair before she fell asleep beside him. The fire caught the intricate weave of the braids that hung over her pale shoulders. The few curls that always escape, lay upon her brow, content in their wayward nature and he smiled at how it perfectly described her. He studied her face; the natural balance of beauty and strength. The warmth that always radiates from her, and even beckoned to him while he slept. He wonders briefly if his father was so privileged to have seen her so, and would he have captured her likeness and placed it in his trunk? He decide sketching her image will be one of the first things he does when they return to the ship. For now, he studied her peaceful sleep while the sounds of surf and the coming night vibrate all around them. He cannot imagine anyone else being in this paradise, this natural order of things; but her. 

Lorna’s eyes flickered open to find James staring at her. His cheeks bearing a hint of wetness, but his gaze soft. The brooding glare seems to have evaporated from the lines of his face of late. Sitting up, she leans against him, instinct telling her he needs to speak. She snuggles close and waits until the familiar low tones usher forth. 

“I used to think that love and pain were partners. To feel a persistent ache, or if something hurt so much. Was so hard to grasp. It must be love.” His hand reached up and held her head close. “You never hurt me. Not even when you spoke the hard truth.”

His voice was laced with so much emotion; guilt, regret and sorrow seeping from each word. She swallowed past the thickness in her throat, knowing he needed something from her in return. 

“I used to think that a home was bricks and mortar and a solid roof above you. A warm fire and a place to hang your things. If you had all that, you could be happy. Loved.” She took his other hand, squeezed it gently. “But it’s not simply a place; or the people inside. But a feeling. If you have the right people, with the right kind of feeling, you can find a home anywhere. On a ship. Or on an island in the middle of the sea. Just two people; growing love into their little corner of the world, can be a better home than all the stately ones that are built strong, but contain no warmth or love within those walls. Or a home created for those who had none, and instead became a kind of prison.”

He dropped a kiss upon her brow. “Tell me about the orphanage.”

She shifted in his hold, body becoming tense. “Why would you want to hear about half starved and beaten children?” 

“Why would you listen to stories about torture, eating flesh and enslaved souls?”

She lifted her eyes to his own. “Well, because it’s about you.”

“Hhhhmmm.”

Her heart clenched as the tears spilled down her cheeks and he pulled her close. Her voice lost in the firm expanse of his chest. “I love you James.”

He enfolded her as close as he could and pulled her back down upon the blankets. “And I love you” 

He bent and she readied herself for his kiss, but instead he breathed against her mouth, “And Lorna…. _I will not away_.” 

His mouth brushed across her own and she felt the smile beneath. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she once more lay down upon his chest. His fingers brushing the stray curls from her brow.  
She talked in hush tones, until the fire burned low and the night fell upon their little hideaway. He learned so much more about her that night, as the veil of her own past was peeled back and ancient hurts let go. She was softness and steel woven together and perfectly matched to his own contrary nature. They had glimpsed each other’s souls and held one anothers hearts and he knew without a doubt; this hell of a journey had in its own twisted and tormenting way - lead him to a kind of heaven. 

And the stars did reflect in her eyes when he made love to her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From sunrise to sunset, all is bliss for James and Lorna.  
> Back on the ship? Not so much for Atticus and William. When the big cat is away...

The sun was barely coming up over the horizon, where Atticus stood in the middle of the ships’ deck, his head slowly rolling back and forth. Sunrises were of no interest to him, having witnessed more than his fair share over a life spent mostly at sea. His mind was on many other things… most of which lay scattered in various prone positions about the ship. His booted toe kicked a wayward empty bottle and as it rolled away he saw the Delaney Company Brandy logo and his mood turned even blacker. Perhaps the mice had played a little too hard while the cat was away. Not that he blamed the cat; he’d not resist such tempting creamy fare given half the chance either. The best he could hope was that James would get lost in the delights to be found there, and not hurry back to his ship too quickly. He definitely would not. Thought he felt a tinge of conscious for having such thoughts about Ms. Lorna Bow Delaney. Red hair though. He’d had a red haired wench once or twice. Barely survived on both occasions, though he grinned wickedly at the memory. He shook his head to clear what felt like traitorous thoughts, and focused instead on the amount of work required to get the ship looking half decent before its’ Captain returned. 

Muttering about _the whole damn scurvy lot_ , he turned about and marched off to locate French Bill to assist him in getting what looked like the entire crew back on their feet… and more importantly – back to their duty. Gingerly picking his way across the wood planks, though he uttered no apology for anyone stepped upon or kicked, he descended the galley ladder of the sick bay and immediately regretted the choice. Just at the bottom he was confronted with the pale bare ass of Cholmondeley face down where he lay on the floor. The cots held the half-naked bodies of several women, one of which remained half frozen in a spread eagle pose as though she just slipped away into nothingness mid coitus. Several more empty bottles littered the floor, as well as a fine white dust that seemed to have covered everything. He almost envied the depths of the man’s depraved bent, but as there was no help to be find here, he ascended back up the ladder to check the Captain’s cabin.  
As he entered the gray light passageway, a form suddenly stepped in front blocking his way. His hand immediately reached for his weapon but paused midair when the unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its scabbard rent the silence. 

“Bloody hell William, what the fuck ya doin down ‘ere?”

“Atticus?” 

“Yay ya it’s me… now what in hell?”

William sheathed his sword and stood at attention. Atticus waved him to ease with an impatient hand. 

“Only what I promised Mr. Delaney, to guard his ship and those aboard.” He leaned down to Atticus ear and in a hushed voice continued. “With how things seemed to be going last night, and into the wee hours of the morning. What with unknowns coming and going, I thought it best to make sure no one gained entry to the Captain’s cabin.” His head slanted to the side indicating the First Mates cabin where Lorna had been staying. “Not to mention the activities aboard were of no sight for the young lad.”

“Is he alright then?

William quickly nodded his head. “Yes, yes of course he’s fine. I’ve not left my post since I sent him to bed.” He leaned down once again, lowered his voice. “Only that gentleman…. err I mean, Lady Godfrey has come down here and took him…herself straight to the Captains’ cabin. 

Atticus slapped on the shoulder and made to move past, “Well good job then soldier. At ease again.”

William’s hand on his shoulder stopped his progression. “Ahh, might not want to go in there Atticus.” At his curious look. “She’s not alone.”

His brow raised and then he frowned deeply. “Bloody hell. There’s not a soul aboard this ship save you, me, and the boy not embroiled in some kind of taboo behavior this night.” He rubbed his bald head in agitation. “I’ve got to get this ship back in shape before James return.”

William nodded and fair sprung into action. “Right sir, of course. I’ll lend whatever assistance I can.”

Atticus clapped him on the shoulder again, “Yer a good man William, thank ya.” He looked over his eager face and body that pulsed with energy. 

“Have you even slept at all William?”

The gentleman cast a look of complete shock and mild insult. “While on duty you mean? Good gracious, no. Of course not. Not a wink sir.”

Atticus nodded his head silently and started to climb back up the ladder. Pausing at the top, he looked over his shoulder at the man who was right behind him. 

“William, ya knows yer just a passenger aboard the ship, right?” 

“Ah yes, sir – and thank you sir.”

Shaking his head, Atticus continued, and stepping onto the deck was more determined to find French Bill than ever before. At least there was a man who he could understand. 

~

Soft shivers coursed over her bare skin in the early morning chill. A gentle breeze that caressed bare limbs rousing her from slumber. Across the slope of her cheeks and down the curve of her breasts, over the flat plane of her midriff … a breathy tickle even upon her thighs. Her legs stretched of their own volition welcoming the sweet airy kiss….. _Ooohhh!!_

Fingers twined through his cropped hair; finally grown long enough to grasp a fistful. Her back arched high and heels dug into the soft sand where it felt cooler inches below the pale surface. Now sensing the warm grip of his hands where he raised her hips to meet the demanding brush of his mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut, giving in to all the sensations. The heady rush of so intimate an act performed in the open. She might have felt positively wicked – no decent woman would allow such a thing – but with James it felt so natural. Freeing. This was his world and she dove in to each new experience he presented. Her body completely his to meld and mold and she surrendered to the pleasures he invoked. A gush of wind swept over them, joining the rush building within and carrying the scent of salt and surf; top notes of the smoky ash of their campfire. She breathed deep, eyes open to find the light bursting all around them. The breath paused in her lungs with the longing to hold time still. 

A turn of her head revealed the sun coming up over the watery horizon. The black branches of the palm trees framed in the foreground of its golden shifting light. Scattered among were shades of red, orange and purple creating an explicit melodious background of riotous colour. A glance down the shoreline revealed the water reflecting back the light as it danced over the calm surface. She sensed the rocking motion - realized it was her own body moving in waves under the hot breath of his love sweeping over her. Ushering forth her own new awakening with each luscious stroke of his tongue. Once more she wished that time could stand still, but one cannot argue with the rising sun. She reached a hand up to the amber glow. Watched it filter through her fingers and flicker across her face, while within her burst a symphony of sound and warmth and colour. Thighs gripped tight about his strong shoulders until the peak was scaled, and she began the floating descent back to earth.  


Hot air now caressing a line up her body, and James entered her vision, his eyes dark with desire. The golds and oranges glistening off the smooth, hard lines of his body; covering her in its warmth. The awe of his ardor snatching the breath she’d barely caught, as his body moved deep and slow within her. Hands and mouth shaping her into his own kind of glimmering flare. Time may have well stood still, he loved her so thoroughly and so completely, until the sky dribbled golden light like syrup upon the sea and shoreline. Holding him close, his mouth branding her own as the release tore through him, she swallowed his moans; a radiant orb consuming the darkness. No, she couldn’t still time, or hold back the tides, but as she lay sated and content while his breathing steadied, she knew even better was this stillness in her soul. 

James was staring down at her, as though he could glimpse into that soul, maybe hold it in his hands for a brief moment of time. He wouldn’t try to bend it, or force it to any will – just let its quiet presence fill him. Pierce his own until it too shot out beams of light and life. Now the sun was setting behind them; reflecting its full glory in the pupils of her eyes. A soft breeze stirred the hair at her temple, where his hands gently held her head. He gazed down upon her, lost in awe how the radiant beams shone on their entwined bodies, casting them in a golden sheen. As he bent to kiss her lips it occurred to him; under the sun’s light – we were all the same. 

~

After spending a good part of the morning wandering the beach and swimming in the sea. An activity Lorna grew to love more and more as she discovered, quite to her delight, a body was almost weightless in the salty waters of the ocean. A nice advantage if one was prone to wrap shaky legs around their lover’s waist each time some unseen marine life brushed against them. Each time James would hold her close while the surf surged around them. She’d wrap her arms tight about his neck, sure she’d never grow tired of the feel of him pressed close. He didn’t seem to mind at all. Though soon he had worked her past any reluctance and they were both diving down under the water and exploring the depths. Once or twice she had gasped under water over the plentiful and colourful fish to be found. Breaking the surface with choking coughs, but no less amazed. Imagine! Such life just inches below from where they tread water. 

All of a sudden James brushed past her quickly, almost sending her off balance when he dove fast beneath the surface. He was under quite a long time and Lorna started to wonder and fret. She knew there were also sharks in this water, but he had assured her they would keep to the shallows and avoid the deeper reefs. Suddenly he erupted out of the water holding something in his hands and a wide grin on his face. 

“What the hell is that?”

It looked like some ancient reptile with claws and a hard shell covered in barbs, and these scraggly legs that were wiggling back and forth. When she looked closer, she saw blood dripping down James arm from where one claw held fast. 

“Lobster.” He answered, still out of breath. 

“Well… what do you do with it?”

James laughed, “You eat it. And believe me, you’ll love it.”

She cast him a rather doubtful look, but stepped closer to inspect the specimen anyway. Her head tilted as the sun shone on the patterned shell.  
“Why, it’s quite beautiful, the pattern, isn’t it?” 

James shrugged. “What it is love, is delicious.”

He started towards the shore, “Can you fetch that pot we have and fill it with water? I’ll stoke up the fire.”

She nodded and ran ahead up the beach to collect the pot, quickly dashing down to fill it with water, and then back up to where James had a good fire going. The lobster briefly placed on the ground and now making a bid for freedom. He set the pot on the fire, then scooped the lobster up and placed it straight in the pot.

Lorna gasped. “Are you not going to kill it first?!”

“Don’t need to. Hot water will kill it.” 

She raised a brow and cast him a suspicious look. “And you were worried about how I prepared a duck?” She pointed at the pot, which now had an eerie squealing noise coming from it. “That’s positively barbaric James. The poor thing.”

He rubbed her shoulder. “It’s a lobster. And it will be delicious.” He brushed a kiss across her mouth, then took his knives down to the water to clean. 

She peeked over at the pot, which strangely hissed, and decided to leave the meal preparation in his capable hands this time. Later as they lounged under the canopy of the shelter, rubbing their full bellies, she would never question him regarding seafood again. It was the best thing she had ever tasted. She could hardly move, but it was worth every bite. It was just as well, since the afternoon sun blazed blistering hot overhead. Her skin felt as though it was sizzling like the lobster after only a few minutes in the sun. James touched her shoulder lightly, saw the white dot surrounded by a light pink shade and _tsk tsk._ There was a hint of worry in his eyes though, and he passed her his long shirt to cover up her pale skin. 

“I think you’d better stay in the shade for the next few hours love.”

She nodded and lay down on the blanket, allowing the cool air in the shade to soothe her flesh. James wandered off for a few moments, and when he returned, she was asleep. Feeling the heat of the day, he stretched out beside her and joined her in a siesta. The sounds of the island a soothing lullaby while they slept. He awoke with a start, not knowing how long he’d slept, his brain slow to register what roused him. Looking around, he realized he was alone – Lorna was not in the shelter. Sitting up he noticed that the sun was beginning its descent on the horizon. _Shit! How long did I sleep? It may be too late now to head back to the ship._ Shielding his eyes from the descending rays, he scanned the beach area for Lorna. Suddenly he spied her in the shallow surf and every last drop of air left his lungs.

The sun was setting behind her, casting her pale body in a suit of flickering twilight colour. Her face aglow with the last orange rays reflected upon the water’s surface. Wild and aflame with the dying sun upon them, her long tresses danced in the wind. A billowing cloud of fire that shrouded her naked body. She appeared so small in the way her form stood against the backdrop of where heaven touched the earth. A sea goddess birthed in flame and water and he was certain he’d never have another water vision anything like this, ever again. His spear was in her hand as she stalked and scanned the shallow depths. Naked and savage and he stood at the edge of their camp transfixed. _She is yours._ He could hardly believe it. This enchanting creature was his to hold. 

James scooped up the blanket and headed down the beach. Seeing him approach, she waded through the waters while behind her the sky continued to blaze. Every line illuminated. Every curve caught in fiery detail and James felt his throat go dry with wanting her. She barely reached the water’s edge and her smile burst forth like a setting sun itself; the spear raised high.

“Look James! I caught a few…”

The words had barely left her lips and he had wrapped the blanket about her naked shoulders and crushed his mouth to her own. Pulling her down to the soft sand, their bodies wrapped close within the blanket. His mouth slanting desperately over lips parted in breathless surrender. Above them the sky was awash in all the colours found in the heart of a fire, and Lorna glimpsing the passion carved in his face, imagined a great dragon birthed in the dying light and consuming her entire body in its bursting flame. While the sky breathed in tones of neon pink to majestic purple and finally to a brief burst of burnt orange, she met him in the explosion of light and matched his zeal thrust for thrust. His zealous pursuit of passion and possession outshining the morning’s foray. To be loved so fiercely by a man all else feared. She felt imbued with power, and completely devoured. He took her with brutal strength in the bold blade that stroked her relentlessly; tempered by the softness of his gaze holding her own. 

Before the fiery orb dipped into the ocean, he stilled briefly and clasped her hands tight. Breathing hard and fast from the exertion spent. No words were forthcoming, and she shifted beneath him, quirked a brow.

“James?” He stared back at her silently, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “James, I take it this means we’re not heading back to the ship?”

He lowered to capture her mouth again; slow and soft, hands squeezing her own. His head turned to the side, and they lay cheek to cheek. She could still feel him hard and throbbing deep inside and her centre still clenched in response to the fullness. His voice barely heard over the crash of the surf and the wind in the palms.

“I don’t want this moment to end.”

She freed one hand, twined her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well I for one will never forget this day. Making love twice while the sky burst above.” 

They both whispered _I love you_ in the quiet stillness. She kissed the side of his cheek, ran her hand down his back. Felt him twitch inside her. His smile upon her temple, where he raised and pressed a kiss. The slight movement causing a slow stroke deep within her and they moaned at the sudden movement after holding still. He moved his hips a few more times; deep, easy strokes and she knew he was thinking of stopping time the same as she had wished that very morning. She pulled him back down to her, finding his mouth briefly, before whispering against his lips

“Stay still James. Just breathe.” She raised her hips, enfolding him in her legs, arms circling around his neck. “There’s no rush - just breathe with me.”

He lifted her slightly to press his arms beneath her, holding her as close as he possibly could. Felt the rise and fall of her chest with his own. Dropping his head upon her shoulder, he felt her warm breath by his ear. Still as the coming night that descended around them they lay entwined upon the sandy shores until their breathing fell in synch. Their bodies rising and falling in unison like the surge of the tide behind them. Pressing forth to a distant shore, a tempo that built and spread like a ripple from their heads down to their toes. She felt him swell and pulse inside her, her own walls clamped down tight. The crash came unexpected. Neither even knew how it happened, with not a single stroke or thrust made, and suddenly both filled with blinding pulses of soul shattering bliss. They were sinking, then floating in this euphoric embrace. Caught and held in those few lingering moments between day and night where you’re not quite sure what is coming. The anticipation making time stand still and anything seems possible as you hang in the balance of expectation. She felt James body tense and relax, while her own seemed to expand and deflate at the same time. Their energies blended into one, until fading with the sunset down to darkness, they were released back to the present. They lay alternating staring in wonder at one another and kissing softly, and the ripple flowed ever on. It was the tide creeping up and soaking the blankets edge that finally reminded them where they were. James pushed off her body with a groan, not inclined to move just yet, but feeling the goosebumps upon her skin. He stood up and reached down for her hands, pulling her up beside him.

“Come on, let’s get you warm by the fire.” 

He kept one hand grasped in his own as they sauntered up the beach, limbs still shaky after the intense experience. James carried his spear and inspected the several fish she had caught. Impressed, his smile flashed in the dark. 

“We’ll fry up your catch too.” Hugging her close, he kissed her lightly. 

She smiled back, “I do think I am getting the hang of this naked and savage thing after all.” 

They reached the shelter and she paused in thought. “Though you know James, it ought not to be so.”  
At his questioning look. “Savage I mean. It doesn’t feel so. Not at all.” She lifted her eyes to the night sky now showing the first signs of stars. “It feels like how it should be. Like maybe we’ve forgotten something in our thirst for progress. Something simpler. Purer.”  
She sighed softly as her gaze returned to his own, finding him blinking back a wetness. “I think I could quite happily stay here forever.”  
His face had taken on a look she had never seen before, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. “I mean, you would be here too, of course.” 

He smiled and nodded, but still retained the odd look.  
“James, did I say something wrong?”

Brushing a backhand across his eyes, he stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. “No, you didn’t” His voice broke softly. “You said everything right, my love.” He kissed her with a certainty she had not felt from him before. 

She caught his gaze. “Great! Then we are agreed, we shall stay here forever!” He laughed and squeezed her closer. 

“Well at least another sunrise James?”

 _The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,_ *

The crooked grin flashed and he saw the flirtatious gleam in her eye. How her tongue darted out to lick her lips.  
“I do so enjoy waking up with the sunrise.”

She kissed him quick on the mouth, then settled herself around the warmth of the fire. His only reply a usual grunt and a wink, before he moved to prepare the dinner.  
He really had no point to argue concerning the beauty to be found in any morning he was lucky enough to wake up with her beside him. No matter the light that fell upon them.

~

Back on the ship, as darkness settled upon the horizon, Atticus groaned deep and placed his head in hands when he heard the music starting up in the galley. Several shouts for rum echoed over the night sea. Scanning its waters he knew it was too late for James and Lorna to return now. The mice would play again. A pair of elbows appeared at his side, also leaning upon the ships’ curved bow, and a great sigh echoed his own. He glanced over and found William’s tired eyes upon him.

“First watch shall I?”

Atticus nodded mutely, then turned on his boots to go find a quiet place to catch a few hours’ sleep. Certain that when he awoke, he’d find the ship they had worked so hard to clean, a chaotic mess of the finest hedonist proportions again. As he passed the lowered gangplank, he spied Cholmondeley already stumbling along the slanted planks, four gawdy women assisting his balance. He shook his head; both mildly disgusted and impressed at the man’s proclivity for debauchery. The doctor tipped his hat, a lecherous grin on his plastered face, as he walked past and lead the ladies down the ladder to the galley below. Soon shouts and laughter and other noises he’d rather not decipher added to the cacophony of the night. 

Feeling old in his sea worthy but weary bones, Atticus decided this night he had earned a proper few hours rest. In a comfortable bed. With no one snoring or farting or wanking off around him. He changed direction and headed to the First Mates cabin… it was his by right anyway. Opening the door he had a few moments doubt when he glanced about the room and spied all the feminine touches. Seeing the bed in the corner, empty and inviting, he decided he could live with drying hose hung about and so many damn books everywhere. _Did the lady actually read them all?_

As he settled down upon the soft mattress he sighed deeply. Breathed in deep and stretched his aching body long. _What the fucking… was that rose? Lavender?_ He buried his nose into the pillow and then wrinkled it in disgust. Shaking his head, he flipped the pillow over and tried to settle once more. The last thought he had before he drifted off to sleep brought a smile and a deep chuckle.  
That explained the delicate floral scent that often drifted about James of late. 

Now he really was looking forward to his return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802’, William Wordsworth


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the one I like to call "the thinking chapter." There's just something about rainy days that makes one pensive.  
> (It can't always be poetic smut.)  
> James and Lorna return to the ship.

Robert awoke when the first morning rays filtered in the window and crept across the aged wood planks. Like bright fingernails digging in and dragging him from peaceful dreams to full awake with no stop between. Life was one grand adventure since he had been in the care of James Delaney, well to be honest, he was often more in the care of Mrs. Delaney – or even Chomondeley; but still, there was no fun in wasting time sleeping these days. There was simply too much to see and do. After spending the entirety of his life on that farm with little else to occupy his time than chores, living at sea for the past couple of months had been like being freed from a cage. James still terrified him a little bit, but since he’d been getting close to Mrs. Delaney, he didn’t seem quite so brooding and dark all the time. Robert smiled in the bed, there’s nothing he spent more time daydreaming about lately then Mr. and Mrs. Delaney becoming a Mr. and Mrs. in truth and that he could continue to live with them. That he might have actual parents who cared for him. In his young mind, after all Mrs. Lorna done, the least of which was getting shot - which so mightily impressed him and he didn’t think he could think any higher of the lovely red head – she deserved to have someone take care of her too. Like a real man should. He really, really hope that James would be that man. He knew she loved him, even a boy could see that, and he was pretty sure by how James acted around her, that he loved her too. He wondered what they were doing off on their own adventure, and a blush came to his cheeks as he thought of the evening activities aboard the ship the past two nights – some of which his innocent eyes had viewed. 

Robert thought a lot about what a real man should say and do. With so many examples of masculinity surrounding him the last couple of months: James, Atticus, Cholmondeley, and William. Even Godfrey, though he had to admit he was still often confused over that subject. Though he held no judgement and truly enjoyed spending time with him…or her, depending on the state of dress. Each man so different, carrying his own set of strengths and weaknesses. He was learning so much from all of them. If he could take Cholmondeley’s sharp intelligence, (and if the young man was honest, his immoral bent was highly intriguing also), the seasoned toughness and worldly experience of Atticus, but tempered with a bit of Godfrey’s gentleness; add a good dash of William’s gallantry… and what would he take from James? 

It would be nice to have people listen to him and do what he told them – it seemed no one could say no to James. Although he had seen Mrs. Lorna on occasion and to his utter disbelief the man simply stood silent and watched her walk away, staring confused into space. Like he had held something briefly, and then it slipped right through his fingers somehow. Then Robert would see him half smile. As if he had rather enjoyed something about the exchange; even if it had not gone his way. But most people feared James – was that respect? Well, whether they listened to James because they respected him or because they feared him, the one thing Robert had noticed was that James had kept his word. They had safely sailed away from London and were now almost at America. In his own way, the man they called the Devil Delaney had taken care of all of them. Given them all a chance at freedom.

Yes, he would definitely like to be that kind of man. He would take care of the people around him. Be true to his word. And most of all like James – he would be free. He just hoped the man himself would be the one to teach him exactly how to be that kind of man. If not, he supposed he could just ask the one person who knew James better than anyone. Although, it would seem odd learning how to be a good man from Mrs. Lorna. 

As he lay in bed pondering when they both might return – not to mention how much cleaning the ship would require again today; a knock sounded upon his door. At his call for entry, the door cracked open and William’s head appeared.

“Do you want to do something more interesting than scrubbing the deck today?”

Robert eagerly nodded his head.

“Alright, get up then. Meet me in the galley for breakfast in five minutes or you’ll be doing it on an empty stomach.” 

Robert’s feet hit the floor before the door had even closed. 

~

Often she was unaware of how her fingers traced the inked markings upon his arms and chest. Though James definitely took notice when they were want to drift downward to the ones that encircled his thighs. The habit had become so frequent as they lay next to one another, she could probably trace each mark unerring with her eyes closed. Fingers automatically moving even while she drifted into slumber. She didn’t even know why they fascinated her so, except that they were a part of him. Each time she could feel the release from within as her fingertips passed softly over the firm skin. As though she cut each mark open and all the poison leaked out in a great oozing black void of pain; surrendering a little more of his numbness with each cutting. She imagined she could leach this poison from inside a hundred times, but with James there would always be more. While the world met the eyes of the dangerous man, she knew the depths of the well where he hid the guilt and hurt and shame and regret. In the quiet moments between sleep and awake, her hands reached for him and her fingers traced, and she had to believe that these years of kindness would one day over shadow the ones of cruelty. Comfort would over-rule scorn. This is what she believed in, these pure moments of tender care where she could pour out her love upon his scars. There was no magic cure; true healing took time. Lorna was patient.

It used to be the floating sensation of water that held James deep in the recesses of sleep. As long as he could hold the awareness of drifting upon the surface with the warmth of the sun on his back and the cool deep below, he would remain asleep. Never lulled too deep; one part of his mind always alert and firing pulses. As soon as anything threatened that sense of calm, like cold clawing hands or the singing of the dead, he would be brought to the surface abruptly. Waking up rarely a gentle thing. Now it was the sense of warmth beside him that kept him deep in slumber. How it wrapped around his limbs, cradling him in softness. Often the gentle touch that traced all the tension and stress from his body, replacing it with a soothing tenderness that leaked into his bones and lingered during the day, lending a lightness to his steps. He pulled that warmth closer; felt it cover him like a blanket knitted solely for his form. Shielding all his lines and curves; the sad hollows and the brittle points that made up the burdened jointed walk of his life. His knotted thoughts unraveling while he slept. Once he believed if his thoughts were visible, they would be revealed as chaotic turns and twists of light never converging to a single point. Now he thought it might just be possible that he could learn to spin them into a dance that both celebrated and protected what it was he held dearest. 

The light touch finally registering his brain to wakefulness, James eyes blinked slowly open. A slight tilt of his head and he half expected to find her quietly watching him sleep; but her eyes were closed. The faint brush of her fingertips dancing over his skin, a simple touch that reached deep; his muscles sagging as they loosed their aching burdens. The irony of someone such as he who had courted touch avoidance for so long, to love one so compelled to touch, that she reached for him in her sleep. He couldn’t surrender to another. Allow such dreamlike ministrations that wove the connective web between them even tighter. Sometimes, he can feel the fear rising in his chest, threatening to take over. It wants to protect him from a danger, but he knows now none exists. Not with her. 

He closed his eyes, drew in a lungful of the fresh morning air. Heard the cries of the gulls where they dove down near the surf. Let the minutes stretch out like an eternity while he lay in quiet contemplation. Here there was no plan, no strategy; and no letters to write. The cycle of time only marked by the passage of daylight to darkness. The way forward was the way back; but he would not slip into the past so blindly ever again. _Were his dark days behind him?_ He doubted it. The veil was peeling back more and more and what lay beneath could still pull him down into the mire without warning. So many fragmented pieces of his mind, he knew it would take years to rebuild. He glanced down at her while she slept; pale and serene in the early morning light. Her sculpted lips slightly parted and a faint rose tint to her cheeks, where he could now see a scattering of light freckles had appeared. Wayward curls stirring in the breeze and he brushed them from her brow gently. Her eyelids fluttered at his touch and he wished she would awaken so he could see the intelligence and brightness glowing in those warm orbs. See the truth he clung to of late. That when his darkest days would come galloping forth, there would now be a love that rode beneath. For so long his feelings had run neutral and now he actually felt the happiness and love creeping into his disposition. She had embedded a fire down in his soul – one he couldn’t contain and didn’t want to control. Unworthy as he felt, he just hoped it would endure. 

As his finger trailed down the slope of her cheek, he realized the light touch of her fingers still continued upon his own form. He kept his own touch at her temple soft, wanting her to wake up gently as he had. Maybe still holding the last vestiges of her own dreams. A shadow passed over her face and James glanced up to find a cloudy sky. Sunlight still filtered through some wispy gaps, but he could detect the scent of rain hanging in the air. A soft sigh heard beside him, he turned back and rubbed one hand along her back in long, easy strokes. She roused slowly, eyelashes battling against eyelids in a slow, heavy lidded blinking pattern. Lazily she stretched her limbs, disheveled, bright red tresses drowsily spilling over their pillows. A long, slow yawn that gave way to her slow easy smile as her eyes took in every ray of light. They lay quietly for a few moments, taking the quiet moments and each other in. An eerie hush falling over the island. A coolness pierced the warm, tropical breeze that lazily swept over them. James turned to add more pieces of driftwood to the fire, glad that it was protected by the overhang of their shelter. He pulled her closer and covered them in the blankets; hands still roaming up and down the length of her back. Slowly spreading over the rest of her silky flesh and bringing the fire within to life. Mouths merging, soft and slow while beyond the storm continued to build. Everything easy and gentle this morning, as if they were discovering each other for the first time. 

James stole a glance skyward, his experienced eye knowing from the shade of grey that it will pass quickly; though the rains will likely remain for the better part of the day. Sure enough, soon the reds, pinks and blues gave way to grayness and the early morning mist thickened. A dampness seeped into everything. The unmistakable roll of thunder heard in the distance. Then the light pitter patter of raindrops on the leaves and canvas above them. Each drop the note of a song played out in an offbeat staccato; its melody deepening the sense of easy calm. Lorna lifted her gaze to his and seeing the lack of concern for the storm in his eyes, pulled him closer still. Her own hands began a leisurely discover of their own, following the easy pace he already set. It felt like hours passed before their bodies even joined as one; though a static surged in the storm, trying to sweep them along with its own sense of urgency. But the rain continued to fall softly, as though it knew enough hardship had already been wrung… and still was to come. The warmth of James body covering her as he brought her to the edge of her own storm over and over. A blackness expanding until it swallowed them and the rain kept its steady beat; and still James continued to take his time. 

~

The late night revelers were even harder to rouse the second morning. Atticus boot connected with many an ass in order to get them all moving; his eyes on the gathering storm constantly. Though it appeared to be a regular passing thunderstorm and nothing more violent, he was certain James would not likely remain with the lady another day in such weather. His eyes continually scanned the choppy waters for the rowboat, even as he barked orders and cuffed the back of drowsy, addled heads. French Bill was busy with the balers in the hull of the ship, the rains speeding the seeping of water into the vessel. He glanced over to the sick bay galley as William came up the steps, young Robert trailing behind. The sad shake of the man’s head giving him the answer he sought. Cholmondeley was a lost cause. At least they had managed to get all the women awake and off the ship. As William passed by, one hand on the boy’s shoulder, he could hear the muttering under his breath.

“Sorry I am that you had to see that boy.” He shook his head as if to clear his own head of the sight. “I expect we shall not see that one until the dinner hour.”

The light rain had at least made the scrubbing of the deck an easier task, and any windows were opened slightly to allow the fresh, damp sea air to cleanse the interior of the heavy smell of smoke and rum… and fornication. William stopped at the port side, his own eyes scanning the horizon and Atticus knew whom it was he anxiously was waiting to return; not fooling himself that it was their Captain’s safe return he sought. He crossed to stand beside him, leaning over the bow and spitting into the churning waves.

“Robert, why don’t ya go see if Godders has managed to crawl out of the Captain’s bunk, eh? We’ll need to give it a good cleaning too I expect.”  
The boy nodded and turned to make haste with the order.

“Oh, and take a bucket of cold sea water with ya… just in case he ain’t roused yet.” Atticus winked at the boy who stood uncertainly, his mouth slack. “It’s alright lad, tell ‘em yer just following orders.”  
Robert nodded, still uncertain, but he did take a bucket half full of rain water. William chuckled and they exchanged amused glances. 

“I daresay he might just do it Atticus.”  
Then his eyes returned to the waters, searching just around the peninsula that led to the private cove. 

“She’s in good hands ya know.” William turned to Atticus with scowl marking his handsome features. “Not that it’s any of yer business at all, but he’ll not let anything happen to the lady, mark my words.”

William sighed. “It’s not external danger that worries me Atticus.”

“Again, not yer business… with all due respect sir.”

William nodded and hung his head low. “You’re right of course, I shan’t argue the point further.”

Atticus clapped a hand upon his back and pointed towards the peninsula where the rowboat was a small rocking dot upon the misty shrouded sea. Both men heaving a sigh relief. 

“See, didn’t I tell ya, nothing to worry ‘bout. And William, jest ya keep in mind, there’s not two souls I know of more deserving of a measure of happiness than those two. Maybe keep that in yer mind.” With a departing nod, he strode towards the ladder leading to the Captain’s Quarters. “Best get that cabin readied fast.” 

William allowed himself one last glance at the approaching vessel, before he forced himself to turn away and go check on the readiness of the galley. No doubt they would be seeking some warm fare to take the chill from their bones. 

~

It was a very tanned James who stepped onto the planks of his ship, his countenance a little less brooding than when he left. Atticus damn near bit clean through his tongue in effort not to utter the thoughts concerning just how much the trip seemed to agree with him. He opted for the more genteel _well rested_ in the presence of the lady. As for Lorna, her steps appeared to be taken with gingerly care and she held herself rather stiffly as she climbed aboard; James hand guiding her and his eyes watching her carefully. His own inspection noted the pink toned face and when her shawl slipped, the redness of her shoulders. He could only surmise the rest of her fared no better. 

“Ahh, caught a bit of sun did ya my lady?” He offered his hand as she steeped from the gangplank, and catching the worried look in James glance, carefully he helped her onto the ship. 

“I’m afraid that might be a bit of an understatement Atticus. I’ve actually been changed into a lobster I believe.”

Atticus chuckled. “A lobster you say? Well, that’s good eats anyway.”

At James quick glance and raised brow, he realized his unintentional pun, “Apologies m’am. Not how I meant to say that.” 

Lorna laughed and touched his shoulder, “Not to worry, and we did have one you know. A lobster. James caught it and cooked it. So, you’re not wrong anyway.” 

Atticus smiled, seeing it was impossible to miss how her face glowed as she spoke. “Well, I’m glad ya had a lovely time of it then, exceptin the sunburn my lady. I might have something for that by the way.”  
With a nod he made to take his leave, but James called out to him before he could make haste. 

“I’d like a briefing in my cabin in 15 minutes Atticus.”

As Atticus departed, Lorna and James gathered their belongings. William stood across the deck, half concealed by the foremast, silently watching the exchanges between the couple. As Atticus noted, the glow that emitted from her face and the width of her smile could not be ignored. And he was sure he’d never seen James smile before either. One could feel the intensity of feeling each time their gazes met, and he was momentarily awestruck at the love that easily blazed therein. This was different than the possessive consuming kiss he has witnessed upon her rescue, as he watched James tenderly inspect her burned skin. Lifting the bag from her shoulder to add to the ones he already carried; easing her burden. At her heartfelt apology, he tapped her nose gently and then kissed her lightly before following her towards the Captain’s cabin. It is then William finally understood their bond, and that his continued manner of behavior would only drive a wedge between them; thus causing the lady the most distress. She had been honest with him from the start, and that quality was one he most admired about the actress. It was what also made her so good upon the stage; she had not a false bone in her body. While he, it would appear, had several. He had to reconcile these feelings so that he did not continue to overstep the bounds of good manners, even if his intentions were good. As they drew nearer he approached the couple to offer his own sincere welcome. Atticus was just crossing from the other side, and warily watched him approach the couple.

“Mr. Delaney,” he tipped his hat towards her, “Mrs. Delaney. I just wanted to offer my own welcome. I trust the trip was good, Captain? It is a shame about the weather today of course.”

James noted the formality of his address and his use of her widowed married name. 

“Thank you Mr. Johnston.” He pointedly refrained from responding with any details regarding the trip. “I trust all was well in my absence.”

He saw the man shift uncomfortably, a grimace crossing his face while his eyes glanced over James shoulder. Turning about, he found Atticus standing behind him a few paces.  
“Well about that Captain. Best probably discussed in our briefing.”

Lorna cast a small pout, “Oh no fair gentleman.” Turning towards William, “William you can fill me in with all the scandalous details over tea.”

Catching James narrowed look, William shook his head, “I’m afraid most of the details are not fit for a lady’s ears, my lady.” 

Again, James noted the dropping of his usual endearment _my dear_. With a deep sigh, he addressed his First Mate.

“Tell me Atticus, how many bottles... cases of Delaney rum are we down?”

“Well, more than a few I fear sir. Though not as many as we might be had it not been for William here.” James glanced towards the gentleman, a grunt issued before raising a brow. “He managed to procure some of his own family’s whisky sir. Lads were… well, let’s just say they definitely showed their appreciation.” 

Another grunt, this time directed at William. This time he leaned close to Lorna, drawing her against him, “Why don’t you go ahead while I discuss this matter with the men. It will give you a chance to change your clothes if you like as well.” She nodded and lightly kissed his cheek before excusing herself and continuing down the ladder. James watched her until she was out of sight and then turned to the two men.

“How angry am I going to be after this briefing?”

Atticus shrugged, exchanged a glance with William, “Well I’ll not lie James, but ya know sailors and how they need to kick up their heels after weeks at sea. Weren’t really anything out of the ordinary. Though we’ve yet to see your doctor friend emerge from his stupor. Wildest of them all that one is.”

Another grunt. “Well then let’s on with it them.” With a nod of dismissal towards William, he strode towards his quarters until Atticus voice caused him to halt at the top of the ladder.

“I believe it’s vital that Mr. Johnston attend also Captain.” James quirked a brow, his brooding glare alternating between the two men. “Seeing how it not likely I could have kept peace and relative order, not to mention have this ship in top shape without his assistance. Volunteered I might add.”

James eyes finally met Williams. “This true?”

William only nodded in confirmation.

“Made sure Robert didn’t see more than his young eyes ought to also. We took turns standing guard outside his room both nights. Which of course is also near your own Sir, if you…”

“Yes, yes Atticus I get the point.” James waved his hands to quiet the praises of the one he deems his rival. Quietly he considered the man who stood also silent before him, offering no more than the simple truth. 

“Alright, let’s get on with it Atticus.” James proceeded down the ladder, and just before his head dipped below the deck surface, “If you will please join us then William.” 

William jumped to attention and made to follow. “Yes sir, right away.”

James knocked on the door to his own cabin, to the light amusement of the other men. A matter he shrugged off since it was only in deference to their presence he adhered to good manners. At Lorna’s call for admittance all three entered, soon settling around the small table. After gathering a few things she left the men to their business, with a promise of bringing tea. James stopped before she could close the door.

“Bring brandy love. I believe we will have a need for it to ward off both chill and temper.”

Lorna nodded and closed the door, heading off in search of Robert. Once they delivered the brandy to the men, the two of them settled down in her quarters to catch up on the events of the past couple of days. She had collected some seashells from the beach and the boy’s eyes widened at the gift as though it was a great treasure. Tempting as it was, she tried to refrain from pressing the boy too much about what had transpired in their absence. Certainly it wasn’t her fault if the boy couldn’t help himself and many details spilled forth as she poured another cup of tea. 

~

Later, at James order, the entire crew dined together in the galley. James escorting Lorna to the seat at the opposite end of the Captain’s table from his own seat, thus making her honoured status clear to all present. Atticus was seated to his right and William to his left. Despite the details revealed during the briefing, their Captain understood that no real harm was done to anything more serious than bottles of Delaney rum. Also, that it would be no wonder at all if half the local whores could now retire based on what they gleaned from his crew in only two nights. Pearle was not exactly thrilled about the last part, but she was not entirely upset either. Lorna had held true to her promise, setting a time to take tea together on the morrow. Watching her with James, how he hung on her every word and the admiration that shone in his eyes, Pearle felt a strange sort of longing for the first time in her life. She would be sure to discuss it with the lady tomorrow. Maybe this could be her chance at a better life for herself too. She was sure someone like Mrs. Delaney would have wisdom to share regarding such a matter. Even the men at the table listened to her every word. That would be a nice change indeed Pearle thought; to be actually heard and not just seen as something to be used. 

The conversation was lively and the rum – and brandy courtesy of William – flowed freely. James and Lorna exchanged many glances throughout the evening. Though they had enjoyed their time alone, they now also found they had missed this odd little family James had gathered to himself. Watching Cholmondeley, still a little green around the gills, being teased mercilessly from Atticus, sending the whole table into fits of uproarious laughter. Which only increased when Godfrey, dressed in her finery, played the part of one of his guests with exaggerated lewdness. Lorna reaching over to cover Robert’s eyes and ears, where he sat beside her. James gaze on them from his end of the table and his smile widens at their easy manner with one another. How she’d hug the boy closely to her and smooth the hair from his eyes, as if he were her own. Though technically she was his step mother, it was not a role she had knowingly signed on for, but she took to it like anything else she met in life; giving herself completely to the task. It briefly raised the issue in James mind that he had not always been careful in their sexual pursuits and that it might even be likely he had already created another Delaney. It immediately terrified him and he fought to keep his vision from blurring. At the centre, in focus was her smiling image as she leaned close to Robert, the two of them lost in animated conversation. As always, she brought life into sharper focus. Still, a discussion on the matter was likely due. He did not look forward to it and it was no small dent to his pride that she would likely handle it with ease. And he loved her even more because of it. In attempt to lighten his own mood, and to show his appreciation towards all those he had gathered, he stood to announce that there would be two days of light duties and shore leave. A great cheer went up from the hall. The crew would have time to explore the port and gather any supplies they would need – for the third day they set sail for the port of New Orleans. America. 

The celebration magnified in both exuberance, alcohol and bawdiness. Lorna stood to take her leave, the men standing as she rose. To her surprise James left his end of the table and came to place a kiss on her cheek, whispering that he would not tarry too long. She gave him a doubtful smile, but squeezed his hand briefly in return. Then made her exit; dragging a pouting Robert behind her. They had decided Robert was to remain in her old cabin, since James had no intention of Lorna returning to it now. She got the boy settled and then was too exhausted herself to wait for James’ to come to bed. 

The rosy fingers of dawn were peeking through the windows when she awoke briefly to James crawling over her prone form, groaning miserably with the effort of holding his head up any longer. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of smoke and rum attached to his garments. Indeed, it seemed to leak from his very pores. She nearly gagged with the strength of the stench. James managed to peer at her coughing fit with one eye. 

“You smell foul.”

A grunt. A mumble which might have been _love you too._

“Honestly James, your clothes are positively rank with smoke and rum.”

A flurry of movement in the dark and then his shirt sailed over her head and floated to the floor. More rustling beneath the covers and his pants followed. Her eyes rolled in the dark, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Better my love?”

“No, but I suppose it’s too late... or early for a bath.”

She saw his smile flash in the dark. “We could go for a night swim.” An eyebrow wiggled suggestively. 

“Which would basically be me rescuing you from drowning because there’s enough rum in you to sink a ship, let alone your own body?”

His head tilted, a shrug of shoulders, as if to say _damn, you’re probably right._

She laughed softly and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night James.”

“Hhhhmm.”

A few seconds of silence. 

“Lorna?”

“Yes James?”

“You remember when I took care of you when you were seasick, right?”

A cautious _yes._

__Silence._ _

__“James?” She glanced over, found his eyes closed tight. “James, why?”_ _

__She stared at the ceiling for a few moments, a slight apprehension in the pit of her stomach. She opened her mouth to call him once more, but he was already snoring. Though she had loved their time at the beach, as she listened to the whispering hum of his breathing, she felt glad to be back in the tiny cabin where love had first blossomed. Even if he did stink like a brothel house.  
She rolled over on her side, facing away, but still tried to snuggle as close to him as possible. He mumbled in his sleep when her backside pressed up close; one arm reaching around and cradling her against his chest. His bearded chin and warm breath upon the back of her neck. One bare leg stretched out over her own. Trapped thus, she gave in to the tug of sweet Morpheus. The rain still fell in its odd little beat upon the windows and the deck above; a strangely comforting symphony that caused her eyes to grow heavy. Her last thoughts about the many storms they had already weathered, and wondering what this new dawn might bring. At the end of the day, they were still just two sailors, caught in a storm, doing love in their own little corner of the world._ _


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recovery day for many - but Lorna is not one to sit about while men moan into their heads. There's an entire port waiting to be explored on this beautiful sunny day.  
> After dark, things get even more interesting.

The sun finally graced the ship with its warm presence the following morning, though most of the ships inhabitants were still too buried under their thin blankets to notice. Atticus was at the helm, and William attending the few sailors capable of climbing the rigging to inspect for any necessary repairs prior to sailing. Though both men were seen rubbing their temples and groaning more than a few times. Atticus squinted into the sun and attempted to spit on the deck; but there was not a drop of moisture in his mouth to accomplish the task. He glanced at the nearly always pulled together and dapper William and found him sitting on a trunk with his head between his knees. 

It seemed the only soul with any energy aboard was the young boy who performed a series of intricate sword fighting drills. The blade flashed in the sun and hummed a swift tune each time it cut the air. His small feet shuffling along the deck in a series of patterns; thrust, parry, retreat. Robert looked over for William’s approval, but found the man leaning back against the mast, eyes squeezed closed. He shrugged his small shoulders and continued his practice, head shaking over the foolish behavior of these grown-ups who now were missing the better part of a beautiful day. Having snuck a taste of the Delaney rum when Ms. Lorna’s back was turned, he could hardly understand the reasons why anyone would require more than a sip. A disappointed frown crossed his face and he turned his back on the man who he had hoped could spare him a few minutes to continue training. Another few swings and he spun back around… and the clang of the swords meeting split the silence. The force of the blow sending tremors along his arm, then his sword glanced off the edge of William’s raised larger sword. 

“Ahh lad, who has been caught napping?”  
William stepped back, lowered his sword and pointed towards the boys, which now rested its tip upon the deck. “Why did the blade slip Robert?”

Robert, the surprise still etched in his features, thought carefully before answering. Checked his stance and then a smile appeared.  
“I reached too far Sir.”

William nodded his approval. “That’s right, well done boy.”  
He stepped closer to the boy and showed him the proper stance. “Always keep your elbows bent and close to your body – don’t stretch towards your opponent or you won’t get the full strength behind your thrust or parry.” He positioned he sword in the boys’ hands. “Extend your sword Robert, not your arms.” 

Once again he raised his own sword to meet Robert’s. “See? Feel the strength you now have?” The boy nodded. “Good. The steps - practice them again… and this time Robert?” He caught the wide eyed stare and touched a finger to the space between his eyes. “No napping.” 

~

Even the intermittent turning of the pages hurt his head. 

Peeking one eye open at the latest brushing of paper, the dappled sunlight filtering in the windows wasn’t helping matters either. 

He flung one arm across his eyes to shield them, and stretched the other across the bed; touching nothing but the extra inches of empty space. Since opening both eyes took supreme effort, it was through the bleary squinted single glance that he found her seated by the windows reading. He licked lips that were dry and cracked, his tongue thick with dehydrated saliva. Trying to focus on her image only set the room to spinning, and he fell back upon the pillows with a groan. Still keeping one eye pried open to see if she noticed.

Lorna did not look up from her book. 

He frowned within the bed. Another groan, a bit louder. And watched her turn another page. 

_Damn, his throat felt like glass-paper._ Could barely muster a decent grunt. His eyes furrowed as he turned his head to attempt to catch her gaze; and immediately regretted the action. The ache in his skull a piercing thing and this time the groan is genuine. Someone is surely squeezing his brain. 

This time Lorna glanced up and cast a withering glance at the prone form in the bed. His vision was too blurred at the moment to notice the mild reproach within her gaze. Then the nausea decided to show up and add to his misery. The cabin continued to sway and he squeezed both eyes shut tight and held his head in his hands; willing it to pass so that he would not embarrass himself in front of her. Though he feared he was likely only delaying the inevitable. Suddenly he felt her presence at his side. Mercifully she had a light tread. 

“Water?”

He could only lift one eye half open and nod once. Struggling to sit up and keep the room motionless at the same time, James pressed his back into the wall; though he still leaned at a lopsided angle. Head tilted back and eyes slow blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He found the one side darker and focused his gaze on that wall, until he felt the coolness of the glass pressed into his hand. He slowly sipped the contents, feeling the cold slam into his gut with a grimace. She waited while he drank and then took the empty cup away, returning with a refill. Though he drank the second glass straight away, the thirst remained. He raised blurry, but grateful eyes to find her standing regarding him with half concern and what he suspected might be amusement. Feeling the cool water mix with the contents of his stomach, he slid down the wall moaning and fell upon his back on the bed. She snorted a laugh, and walked away. He thought she had returned to her book and felt no small amount of self-pity. _Had he not taken care of her when she was seasick? Did he not forewarn her just last night?_

Prying his eyes open again, and shifting his head slightly to search her out, only to find her once again at his side… and a cool cloth pressed to his forehead. He signed deeply and catching her other hand, pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bed. She pressed the cool, wet cloth to his cheeks and then along the top of his chest; searching his gaze while her head slowly shook back and forth. All he could offer was a somewhat apologetic smile. She rose once more and went to rinse the cloth. He groaned the absence of her presence… and the cool cloth, though his eyes suddenly felt heavy once more. Briefly opening when he felt the soft kiss against his mouth… before she let the cool cloth drop over his face with a plop. James didn’t even bother to remove it and fell promptly back to sleep. 

Lorna settled with her book for a few moments to make sure he slept, and then quietly left the cabin. 

~

As the sun gradually rose higher, so rose most of the occupants of The Good Hope. Most stepping gingerly, hands holding their heads and speaking in hushed voices for the first few moments. Lorna was seated in the galley having tea and a light repast with Robert and Godfrey, when Cholmondeley came stumbling in; pale, scarred and shaky. They watched as he grabbed a bottle of William’s family’s’ finest and immediately poured and tossed back a shot. Then another. Wiping the dirty, wrinkled sleeve of his shirt across his mouth, he collapsed into an empty seat. Lorna poured him a cup of tea and he smiled his gratitude. After a couple of slurpy sips and some small talk with Godfrey, his head lowered to the table and he was out faster than his tea had a chance to cool. Lorna glanced at him and rolled her eyes, then noted that Godfrey didn’t seem to be faring much better. His head lolled loosely about his shoulders and he had trouble focusing on the conversation, his own elbows leaning more and more on the table. She exchanged a frustrated glance with Robert – whose own glance was more than tinged with boredom. Reading one another’s minds, they rose to take their leave of the still recovering men.

“I think it’s a lovely day to go into the port, don’t you Robert?”

He nodded eagerly.

Godfrey mumbled from where his mouth rested in the crook of his elbow now, “James wouldn’t like you going alone Ma’am.”

Lorna raised her chin, “Then James shouldn’t drink so much he cannot get out of bed before noon.” She turned on a heel. “Come Robert, surely someone else will want to do more than rest head in hands this fine day.”

The march of her boots temporarily roused Cholmondeley, who took a few sips of his tea before once more laying head upon table. 

~

As no proper escorts seemed available, and not even Pearle could be found, it was the few sailors who had finished their work in the rigging that accompanied Lorna and Robert into the port of Plymouth. Both Atticus and Bill were busy over seeing other necessary tasks aboard the ship and William had returned to his own bunk for a short respite. Atticus was not entirely happy with Mrs. Delaney leaving the ship without speaking to James, but since she wasn’t going alone… and was no prisoner, he said nothing further on the matter. 

Stepmother and stepson enjoyed the day exploring the only port of entry to the island of Montserrat, Robert especially thrilled to discover it was built at the base of an in-active volcano. Indeed the entire settlement had been constructed on the ancient lava deposits of the Soufriere Hills volcano. Lorna was equally thrilled to discover the islands rich Irish heritage. There were many plantations involved in the production of rum, sugar and cotton; the islands main source of trade. With distaste they both realized largely accomplished on the backs of slaves. A matter Lorna would like to discuss with James, should he ever rise from his bunk this day. Seeing all the new fauna and strange creatures – particularly fascinating were the lizards that scurried everywhere, Lorna wished she had James artistic ability so that she could capture their likeness. Although not so much the native tarantula the merchant was casually brushing away from his fruit stand. No sooner did she think about the man, then an arm wrapped around her waist and a deep voice rumbled beside her ear. 

“They’re quite deadly you know.”

She gasped and turned in his embrace, a look of shock over seeing him, and one eye still cautiously watching the huge spider. 

“James! Wait… are you serious? How deadly?”

James pulled her closer, and leaned in to nip her ear lobe, “Just don’t get bit.” 

He ruffled Robert’s hair and then offering Lorna his arm, together they explored the outdoor market. The boy spied a table of knives and gave James a hopeful look. James nodded his consent and the boy darted forward grinning happily. 

“I would have gladly offered my services as escort had you requested love.”

Lorna turned in his arm, “I know you would have James, but you needed rest more it seemed. Robert and I have had a lovely time.” She smiled in the boy’s direction, “He’s quite talkative once you get him alone, so I like the chances when they present themselves.” She gave him a meaningful glance.

“Duly noted.”

She lay a palm upon his chest and her smile was as bright as the sun, “But I am very glad you have joined us.” 

Her eyes held such promise he longed to hurry back to the ship and lock her up in his cabin for a few more hours. His hand squeezed where it rested on her lower back. A little lower than might have been publicly acceptable, and she bit her lip at his daring. 

“Someone is feeling much better I see.”

“Hhhmm. Yes, much.” His mouth pressed lightly upon her cheek, “If we were not so public a place, I’d be happy to show you.”

Her cheeks flushed under his intense regard and it only aroused him further when she demurely and briefly dipped her gaze. They stood staring at one another in the midst of the busy throng that bustled all around them. Pedestrians stepping around them in frustration and some ladies with their eyes resting on James, holding a tinge of longing in their gaze. An errant child bumping into Lorna’s legs broke the spell, and James glanced over to find Robert admiring a knife. Lorna, not as sure about the choice of market stand, clutched his arm.

“Perhaps you’d better go lend the boy some assistance?”

James raised a brow, “And by that you mean don’t you dare buy him one?”

She shrugged a shoulder, “Even I have a knife James, but yes… perhaps the smallest and dullest one you can find?”

He chuckled and leaving her to admire a booth containing various jewelry, went to assist the boy. A short time later, he and Robert returned, the boy proudly displaying his very first knife… which was the perfect size for a boy of his age he assured her James had said. Lorna set down the beautifully hand crafted necklace she had been admiring and gave the new weapon a proper examination; declaring it one of the finest she had ever seen. The boy beamed with pride until James bade him to put it away while they were in public. Spying a sugar cane juice booth, he handed the boy some coins.

“Why don’t you escort Mrs. Delaney to that sugar cane juice booth for a refreshment while I make a few inquiries regarding necessary supplies?”

The boy accepted the coins with thanks and with no small amount of pride, offered Lorna his arm. James gave her a wink as the boy led her towards the booth. While they enjoyed the sweet drink, mixed with lime and ginger, James made his purchases and discreetly tucked the items away. 

Together they browsed a few more of the market stalls, making any necessary purchases that were sent back to the ship with the sailors who had first accompanied them. After making inquiries, James found an outdoor food vendor that specialized in local fare such as breadfruit, mangoes and goat water which they found to be very spicy and flavorful. Robert not quite as sure and stuck mainly with his rice, cashew and pawpaw dish. As they ate, Lorna noted the frequent frown that etched James features whenever evidence of the slavery the port plantations depended on was exhibited. She squeezed his hand across the table and he smiled for her benefit, though inside he was seething at the prevalence of such practices. Sensing his mood, they finished eating quickly and mentioning the increasing pink shade of her skin, Lorna suggested they return to the ship. James lifted the shoulder of her gown and seeing the contrast of white to pink, heartily agreed. 

“We will stop at a booth where I saw a balm for sale, and then return to the ship.”

Robert walked a few feet in front of them, taking in as much of the sights and sounds as he could before once more being confined aboard the ship – and likely early to his cabin if the night time festivities continued. They purchased the lotion, which Lorna thought was the best thing she had ever smelled - the vendor suggested keeping it in a cold box if one was available before applying. Nodding their thanks, the couple hurried to catch up with the boy. Once they cleared the crowded public space and started the road leading down to the harbor where James ship was moored, he took her hand in his, and Robert clasped the one on her other side. Lorna walked along, breathing in the fresh, tropical air, happy to be with her two most favourite people in the entire world. 

~ 

When they returned to the ship, Robert dashed off to find Atticus, or William… even Godfrey would do, his excitement to show the new blade was so great. Lorna, keen to keep her promise, sought out Pearle to have tea; the two women having a lovely chat despite their lack of common interests. The market booths they had both visited proved to offer some genteel discussion regarding the local fashion and beauty trade. Indeed they also found much to talk about with regards to both James and William, and their hushed voices carried across the galley. The gentlemen in question often casting glances in their direction; curious brows raised. The ladies found it necessary to often have their mouths discreetly covered by their hands to hide their laughter. Pearle confessing at the end that although William was quite dashing, it was French Bill with whom she felt a much greater rapport. Given her position however, she would not be disappointed with the attentions of either gentleman, and in fact, though it best to perhaps try both before making up her mind. Lorna refrained from any comment only calmly nodded her head --- it was rather sensible after all. 

William leaned across the table towards James, his own voice hushed, “Are your ears burning mate?” 

James grunted in reply, but couldn’t resist a glance towards the ladies. 

William ducked his head, a blush infusing his cheeks, “Because I confess to never having felt such fear in my entire life before this moment. I’ve stood tall on battlefields for God’s sake James!” His gaze followed James to the ladies corner, “We must remain strong… show no fear mate!”

James grunted again and turned around, “I had better go easy on the rum tonight… and see my bed before dawn.”

William smiled and slapped the table, “Cold shoulder this morning yeah?”

“Cold cloth to the face.” James shrugged, “though I cannot complain that it did not feel good on an aching skull. Still, not the care I was hoping for.”

William was struggling to hold his mirth together, “Aye, still wet behind the ears mate… shall I impart some wisdom regarding the fairer sex James?” 

James only frowned in return. Then nodding his head in defeat mumbled, “Well, yes… if you can spare it.”

The two men laughed out loud, clinking their glasses … and drawing curious glances from the ladies in return. At Lorna’s questioning look, James only winked in reply. 

William leaned closer once again. “Oh how quickly the tables turn.”

Pearle caught Lorna’s gaze. “What do you suppose that was all about?”

Lorna chuckled, “That is how men show they are not bothered at all by what we might be saying. Pay them no mind – it will drive them crazy.”

Pearle gave a serious nod and raise her pert nose in the air, turning her head away from their direction. She sat back straight and drank her tea like a properly lady of disdain ought to. Across the room, Lorna and James still held one another’s gaze, whether it was affection or the unwillingness to surrender only made it more enticing.

It was Atticus who unknowingly brokered the truce with his timely arrival and requiring the gentlemen on the main deck. A final parting glance and a tip of their hats towards the ladies, who held more interest in their tea. Though feminine laughter followed the men up the ladder. Atticus paused briefly, head tilted to the side and then gave the other man a nervous look.

“Only two things make me nervous gentlemen; uncharted waters … and the laughter of women when a man leaves a room. It’s unnerving, ain’t it?” 

James and William were too busy concealing their own laughter to answer.

~

When James arrived back at the Captain’s Cabin, barging straight through the door without any announcement, he caught Lorna naked from the waist up. Her long curls pinned high atop her head in a haphazard manner. His brow raised and he mentally congratulated himself on his excellent timing. Until he noticed the shade of red that marked her shoulders, upper back and arms. He let out a low whistle; the sight still being one to be admired. 

Her eyes switched from startled to bearing a hint of pain as she continued to rub the balm they had purchased over the burned skin. 

“It does feel good once on, but applying it is rather like self-torture.”

James crossed to the wash basin, spying the cloth he had returned that very morning and dipped it in the cool water. After wringing it out, he walked over and laid it across one red shoulder.  
“Allow me to return the favour.”

She smiled over her shoulder and sighed. “Hhhmmm, it does feel good.”

Leaning back against his chest while the coolness took the heat out of her skin, James fingers traced lightly up her bare arms sending shivers, though the cabin itself was sweltering hot. He lifted the corner of the cloth and kissed the tender skin on her shoulder. Then removed the cloth to do the other side, while Lorna bemoaned its absence. He kissed the other shoulder before laying the cloth and pulled her against his chest, this time his arms encircling her bare waist. His hands roamed up to cup her breasts, lips lightly trailing along the bare shoulder where he alternated kisses with blowing cool air on her skin. Earning a purring from deep in her throat – where his mouth sought to nibble next. Taking one hand, he led her over to the bed and told her to lie down on her stomach. Her face registering the oddness of the request but she complied. James picked up a larger towel and left the cabin, returning shortly and placing the now wet towel along the entire width of her back and shoulders. He was certain he had not made her groan in pleasure quite like that in all their amorous activities. A challenge he was more than willing to pursue. 

“Leave that for a few minutes. Then I’ll rub some more lotion.”

He crawled over her and leaned against the back wall, careful not to rest his legs upon her own; which also showed a fair shade of pink. The temperature in the cabin seemed to be rising by the minute, and he doffed his shirt and tossed it to the floor. Eyes closed and resting, one hand sought her own and entwined around her slender fingers. They both dozed for a short spell, James coming awake instantly alert. He had dreamed about his mother and father, but he couldn’t remember more than fragments. It was outdoors and he assumed it was on Nootka. Though he couldn’t remember the exact details, he did note it was not the typical dream that left him feeling embattled and unsure. A pleasant feeling lingered and he struggled to assign the cause. Glancing down at Lorna’s naked form stretched out on the bed, he thought perhaps it was related to their own recent foray into Nature. Maybe his father and mother had been happy in such surroundings too. Trouble only surfacing once they returned to civilization. This might be one image he held onto. He reached forth and drew the now almost warm towel off Lorna, and reaching for the balm, began to rub it into the skin. She was cool to the touch and for that he sighed in relief. Perhaps she could at least get through the evening meal without too much discomfort. She slowly awoke under his gentle touch, sighing her gratitude. 

“Roll over.”

She complied, stretched out naked upon the bed, and he simply sat and admired the sight for a few minutes. Thanks to their tendency to be naked most of the time at the beach, her normally pale skin was tinted pink everywhere; even her breasts bore the effects of the sun. His eyes roamed the length of her, stopping at the junction of her thighs where it contrasted with the red thatch of curls. _Mmmm, where to start?_ He straddled her legs, taking a generous amount of the balm and began at the top of her chest and worked his way down. Half massaging lotion, half fondling his favourite spots until she was limp as a noodle beneath him. His task completed, he lay the container on the bed, and then lay himself gently down upon her, brushing his lips against her own. Her arms snaked around his neck drawing him closer, the butterflies set to flight within her stomach; their fluttering wings coursing along her veins. The kiss deepened, his hands leaving the soft tresses he had loosened and beginning to roam freely again. She arched when his mouth claimed a nipple and rubbed her thigh over the bulge in his breeches. Their eyes met briefly, and then both quickly reached to remove his pants; James undoing the fastenings while she tugged them down his hips. Her hands grasped him and began stroking the hard length as soon as he sprung free – his pants still stuck just above the knees. Deciding it was enough, he grasped her legs and pulled them up to his shoulders, positioning the head of his cock at her entry and was just above to drive it deep when a knock sounded upon the door. He cursed aloud, and Lorna groaned into her arm. Their eyes met, the silent question passed _do we answer?_

It was Robert’s voice inquiring as to whether they were ready for the evening meal on the other side of the offending portal. Releasing her legs, after placing a hot kiss upon each thigh, James tugged his pants back up to his hips and proceeded to the door. Lorna pulled the blanket across to cover her nakedness. James briefly spoke to the boy through the half open door, then turning back met her gaze. 

“You have ten minutes madam. The boy is apparently starving.”

She nodded and walked naked to the corner of the room where her clothing was stored. Which didn’t help James raging erection at all. He mentally cursed himself for not arranging to dine in their quarters privately tonight where he could keep her naked all night. He stood in the middle of the room eyes watching her toilet and dressing; though part of him thought it odd that it should be so arousing. His fingers absently scratched along his arms and back. Catching his reflection in the mirror, Lorna retrieved the balm and proceeded to rub some upon the dry skin that was causing him discomfort. Her fingers applying gentle, but firm pressure that also soothed the tired muscles beneath and he groaned aloud. Resigned to being horny as a untried lad for the remainder of the evening. 

“It feels good?” He nodded dissolving in bliss under her touch. “I can do it better later if you like… you’re very tense James.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at her, then glanced down at the very obvious bulge still in his pants. She kissed him slowly, darting her tongue inside and then along his bottom lip.  
“I can take care of that later too.”  
With a saucy wink she walked back to the corner to finish dressing. James waiting and watching silently. When she finally turned about, hair neatly coiled, waist cinched and looking so incredibly beautiful his heart beat wildly in his chest. 

“Ready.”

Crossing to a drawer in the dresser, he pulled a wrapped bag from within. 

“No, not quite ready yet.” Reaching into the bag he pulled something wrapped in tissue, unwrapping it as he walked towards her. His other hand making a spinning motion. Lorna presented her back, anxiously wondering and waiting his intent. “Something is missing… but I believe I have…” she felt something placed about her neck, “just the thing.” 

She glanced in the mirror, eyes astonished to find the necklace with the intricate bead-work she had admired at the market now dangling just above he curve of her breasts. It was gorgeous and it matched her gown perfectly. She raised questioning eyes, completely taken aback by the unexpected and seemingly out of character gesture. His arms came about her waist, as he held her gaze within the mirror.

“An overdue apology for the misguided … no, the insult, of once trying to buy you. A family legacy I have no wish to repeat.” He touched the delicate piece, “this --- is because you are loved.” His face buried in the side of her neck, muffling his next words, but still she heard them whispered against her skin. _So. Much._

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned in his arms, collapsing against his weight. “James. Thank you just doesn’t…” Her forehead rested against his own. “I love you too. So much.” 

It was fifteen minutes later, with Robert between them, they entered the galley. James seated Lorna at her end of the table, a chaste kiss placed upon her brow, while her fingers toyed with token of his love that shone in the candlelit room. 

When James took his seat at the head of the table, Atticus looked up and sniffed the air, a curious look upon his face. Leaning close to James he said just a little louder than a whisper.

“Mango?”

“Mmmnn.”

Atticus nodded his head, “”tis nice. I like that. Much better than the lavender you usually smell like.”

“Mauh.”

~

“Get down… I think he’s coming.”

James ducked down, nearly tripping over his trousers that for the second time that day were stuck about his knees. As he hobbled and hopped on one foot trying to free a leg, he misjudged where she was in the dark and they ended up tripping over one another; sprawling upon the deck. Thankfully they had not knocked anything over. Only the sound of tearing fabric rent the silence they were trying desperately to maintain. 

“Shit, sorry...Lorna?” He could feel her body shaking with laughter that threatened to give away their position on the ships main deck. Placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles, but she playfully bit his palm.

“Ouch! Feisty minx. Come here.” 

He heard her scramble to her feet in the semi dark, his eyes not quite accustomed to the night as yet. Or, perhaps he had a bit more wine than he previously thought. The dinner was not quite as rowdy as the preceding nights, since he intended to sail within the next twenty four hours, but there was still wine to grace the tables. He scanned around the various trunks and boxes for where she had gone. Then the sound of something hitting the deck and a distinctly feminine _oommpffh_ from the port corner of the bow of the ship. Staying low, he crawled towards the sound of soft cursing in the dark. No sooner had he moved, than the light of the watchmen passed over his former position. James paused, crouched low behind a box of supplies, until he heard the sailor mutter about _stinkin rats_ and return to his post. 

Remaining on all fours, he navigated around ropes and other sailing necessities until his hand grasped a trim ankle. She gasped loudly and then clasped a hand over her mouth before the laughter could spill out. His hand moved from ankle, to knee, to bare thigh, until finally he was pressed up close against her semi clad form. Finally able to see her face, he noted the bright eyes and wide smile and how the moonlight shone on the curls hanging free about her face. Turning them into a shade of burnt chestnut that breathed flames of gold throughout. Damn she had led him on a merry chase after declaring the cabin too hot while they were undressing one another; but he’d finally caught her. She hiccuped.

“Are you drunk love?”

She laughed, but made a _ssshhhhh_ sound that was louder than his own words. Her whisper carrying out across the night, “They’ll hear you.”

He chuckled as he reached to untie her shift. “I don’t think it’s me they will hear my love.” 

She feigned a pout and narrowed her eyes, while he continued working on the ties. “You’re beautiful when you’re pretending to be put out with me.”

She swayed slightly, her grin a little more crooked, as he pulled the last tie. 

“Damn, you are tipsy.”

Her shoulder shrug was exaggerated and he thought it no wonder she had achieved such success upon the stage. He sat back on his heels, holding the last tie between his fingers, judging the extent of her sobriety before continuing their outdoor tryst. She calmly returned his questioning gaze, until impatiently spitting out a _what?_ between another hiccup.

His head slanted, “Are you sure about this?”

She snatched the last tie out of his hand and with a twist of her wrist, deftly loosened it, her breasts free to spill forth in the moonlight. “James.” He did not meet her gaze, his eyes locked on her chest. “Have you ever known me to not know my own mind?”

He moved forward and covered her body with his own, pushing her down upon the wood deck. “The lady has a point.”

Remaining clothing was quickly discarded and they spared a few moments to fumble around in the dark for the light blanket she had brought from the cabin. James lingered his gaze to appreciate the glow of her naked body beneath moon and stars, before they snuggled close beneath; pulling it over their heads. Shrouded in darkness, they felt their way along each other’s bodies, discovering new places to tease; drawing new sensations and pleasures from one another. It was like being blindfolded she thought. Not knowing where James hands, or fingers, or mouth would touch her next, was driving her into a heated passion faster than ever before. The possibility of being discovered by the sailors on watch adding a heightened thrill to the experience that surprised her no small amount.  


Still they were unhurried; enjoying the feel of one another pressed close and the sounds of the nighttime maritime life all around. If booted steps came close, they were soon too lost in one another to notice. James was certain it was the most erotic encounter of his life, his need to be inside her a hunger that over-ride any sense of gentleness. She loved his weight on top of her; pressing her down as he filled her completely. The force and speed of his thrusts rocking her body against the cold wood planks. She took him in; braced against the pounding into her soft flesh. That she welcomed his consuming passion without guile or trickery, but through the release of her own sensuous nature, only goaded him further. The depths of her response reaching down deep into his heart, though it was his body that was claiming her as his own. His hand reached across her chest and found his gift upon her breast. That it was all she wore pleased him immensely. He altered his pace to a slow, sweet rhythmic worship. Felt her body pitch and then sigh beneath him. The sweet spasm building. Her small teeth nipping into his shoulder to silence her cries. He cradled her head in his hands, mouth fused to hers so she could swallow his deep moans. 

The whole time they had been so attuned to one another with lacking the visual clues, but now he wanted to see her come. Wanted to see her eyes bathed in starlight again as the desire swam within their depths. He pulled the cover from their heads, raised so he could hold her gaze, while his hips coaxed her climax forth. Felt the shaking begin in her legs where they clasped about his hips like a vice. Her hands grasped his head, tugging the cropped hair, as if she could pull him any deeper. Watching her helpless in the throes of her release, he found it hard to believe there was once a time he held himself away from her. That he had even a measure of restraint with regards to her, seemed ridiculous now. Whatever it was, it was completely gone now. His own release building, he swore he’d never get enough of her. Of this thing between them that kept blossoming and bursting bigger each time. How he is both unmade and made whole by her love is still a startling truth not yet understood. Her walls were still clenching around him, the steady stroking building another climax. He gasped in wonder; lost to himself and lost in her. 

Staring up into his gaze, his frame back-lit by a million starry eyes, she felt wild and strange and free. How she gave herself completely over to him was a kind of ecstasy in itself. Now the powerful surge swept them both along. He was the tide and she was the shore; ever destined to meet and crash upon one another. Body straining, mouth compressed in a thin line as his climax tore through him, while his mind registered the risk once again; he was powerless to resist the urge to fill her with his seed. He simply didn’t want to stop. Or to end. This intoxication tumbled them about and over in churning waves that know no retreat – just an endless sweeping ebb and flow that left them both breathless. Bodies slick with sweat and eyes loving one another in the quiet moments between the passion and the stillness. Fingers entwined they lay panting upon the deck, the blanket pushed back to allow sea breeze to cool their heated flesh. James rolled to her side, glancing at her body that seemed lit from inside. Traced a finger along her ribcage and watched the goosebumps erupt across her flesh. She shivered beneath the heat of his gaze. His mouth devoured her own, breathing a new fire within and he saw the flames dance along with the stars in her eyes. Grasping her hand, he rose to stand; Lorna admiring the tanned and toned length of him glistening in the moonlight. He pulled her alongside his lean body, mouth grazing her ear.

“Come on. We’ll continue this inside.”

They gathered what clothing they could find in the dark as they picked their stealthy way along the deck. Lorna wrapped in the blanket, but still praying they encounter no one aboard, dashed the few remaining feet across the deck. James slowly sauntered, breathing in the night air like he had not a care in the world. They entered the cabin, which had cooled considerably, and closed the door quietly. Barely inside more than a few moments, they exchanged wide eyed looks and broad smiles. Lorna having a soft rose tinted blush upon her cheeks. James crossed to the water jug and knocked back an entire glass in a few gulps, before refilling the glass and offering it to her. After drinking more than half, she handed it back and he drained the contents before setting it back upon the hutch. 

Slowly he advanced towards her – his nakedness wild and animal like and it was then she knew the feeling of a prey being stalked. His hands settled on her hips and mouth crashed upon her own. Back… back… she’s pushed until the edge of the bed hit her buttocks. He lifted her up and then tossed her upon the mattress where she landed with a breathless _oooohhh._

Eyes wide and heart accelerated, the blood pounding in her ears; she welcomed his ravenous bent. Molded and devoured by his fevered pace, until she spilled like sand upon the shores. Spent and sated, they curled close while James stroked the long length of her hair until he felt her drift softly to sleep. The first rays of dawn coming in the windows and setting her skin aglow. A few fell on the beads and gems of her necklace, reflecting their brilliance all about the cabin. Watching them dance above the bed where they lay, James smiled to himself:

He never expected his love to shine with such brilliance. A simple token, but then, it often was those very things that held such deeper meaning.  
All it took was a wild little ray of light to call it forth from the darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today James is very aware of the unfinished puzzle that is his mind. Emotions plague him; but soon he realizes all the ways love has come softly into his life. Which is harder to bear: the lingering pain, or the gift given? The sea is vast, yet never full. Be like the sea James.
> 
> Meanwhile the ship is loaded with new supplies in preparation for sailing toward its next destination.

His dreams took him back to the forest. Out into the wilds once more where the light was soft, the air humid and every living thing was infused with the scent of damp earth. His ears tuned to the cacophony of sounds, while his own bare feet tread lightly through the brush. Body relaxed and focused on his steps, a concentration that comes easily to him due to the many hunts across arid landscapes. Except now he is not hunting; there is no prey here. There are mysteries to be solved however; but with everyone who knows the truth now passed on, he has little hope they will ever be unraveled. 

_The dead don’t sing._

All he can do is walk the path. The landscape is familiar, the canopy of trees above and the small, steady stream to his left. Though he knows he’s never walked this path before; instinct tells him it will lead to a river. And he knows who will be waiting for him, but as to what form she will take, remains to be seen. He follows the little stream around a bend, and there his mother waits in the middle of the river. 

The black dress adorned with the raven wings fringe is gone: it’s the young and smiling Native woman that wades about the waters. She is happy; or, maybe it is that she is happy for him. Perhaps she notices that the tense lines of his face have diminished. The spark of life returned to his gaze. He’s just relieved that there are no hook like hands to grab him. No erotic images or singing dead to confuse his mind further. She simply smiles at him… like a mother greeting her son. It’s a strange and comforting thing to be above the water with her like this. Bare feet rooted in the mucky bottom, the water gently swirling about his waist, her long fingers trailing upon the surface casting ripples about them. A baptism he’d been longing for as far back as memory could reach. Her tanned limb stretches forth and he has to wade further out into the waters to follow the direction of her long, pointed finger. All the way down the river where it flowed into the sea; the crash of waves churning where the two waters mingled carried on the wind. 

_All rivers run to the sea._

Squinting into the distant horizon, he can just make out the outline of a ship. His ship - rocked gently on its moorings as it waits at the mouth of the converging waters. The river ever flowing into the larger body, which never complains, or spits the river back upon itself. It only knows to expand its girth accordingly. 

_But the sea is not full._

He had struggled these past years to become as tolerant as the sea; generous, broad-minding … always forgiving. Taking it all in and never over flowing. Sensing his mother behind him, he stood wondering if she too felt this same weight of worldly weariness in her bones. In this moment, here with him, there is a lightness that surrounds her. _Did she once feel so out of joint with the world as he often does?_

He wished he could have known her in this time. Knew what it would be like to walk a forest path to a lazy river and gaze down its winding length to the open sea beyond. To feel infinite and small in the vastness of the natural order of things; and yet also in harmony with ones surroundings. Before the greed and vanity of the world left a crimson stain upon spirits once pure and free.

_Have you never bought a soul for beads?_

He wanted to weep for her. For him. For the time lost to both of them while they remained in their various chains; visible and unseen. The burning blurred his vision and he turned away; her happiness almost a burden he could not bear; knowing the end as he did. He could dream this dream a thousand times, and time would not change the outcome. The ship was waiting. The waters churning faster beneath it. He can hear the crashing of the waves growing louder as the ocean current grew in strength and the winds increased their fury. The creak of the hull as it absorbs the force. And then something softer, sweeter over the rush of wind and water…

His mother was singing. Returning to her own path on the other side of the river, her voice carrying a lilting melody in her own tongue back to him. He couldn’t understand the words, but it covered him in a sense of bittersweet hopefulness. The tune oddly becoming louder the further she wandered from the river. Calling to him – yet he knew he was not meant to follow. Another tune from his side of the river – its refrain blending in a beautiful harmony with his mothers. The strains twisting about him as musical fingers drawing him back and he floated on the lyrical, silvery notes until his eyes suddenly opened. 

The dream vanished; but the song remained. Sweet and soft it echoed about the cabin; tune and words a language unfamiliar to him. Sitting up in the bed, his head twisted until still blurry eyes fell on Lorna seated on a chair by the window, fingers drawing through her long, red waves… and singing. His breath caught and heart skipped a beat to realize this beautiful, enchanting sound came from her. At the serenity that caressed her features in the early morning light. The notes of his mother’s song still echoing in the dream like vestiges of his mind. He was enthralled as her soothing voice rolled over him. Powerful in both grace and haunting tones; the swell of power that rose in her throat over the higher notes. It didn’t so much come from her, as reside in her – and she’d simply opened the door to set it free. The notes curled about him, eyes now spilling forth all the weary emotion held inside. James left the bed, a blurred, stilted gait as he crossed the floor and came to stand before her. Her head lifted, song briefly paused as she noticed the brimming wetness in his eyes; saw the wild look behind them. 

“A dream?”

He only nodded. Knelt at her feet and rested his head upon her lap. 

“My mother was alive - happy, and she sang in the river.”

Her fingers stroked along the creased lines of his forehead, through the longer lengths of his hair and the tense knots of his neck. She sensed there was more yet to spill from him; but she would wait.   
And so she sang. Poured her melodious spirit out over him, while he knelt silent and still, letting her voice wash all the spent and arduous grievances away.   
The river flowed ever on and the sea absorbed its tears.   
~  
Robert sat upon the window seat in his cabin gazing out over the calm waters. His fingers tapping an impatient beat upon the glass. _Was it too early to knock upon the door?_ He sensed he had intruded the evening prior, and his young mind wasn’t so young that it did not know what it meant – the two of them sharing the Captain’s Cabin. After spending the better part of the day with Lorna, and then both her and James, he couldn’t quell the longing inside for more time. She did seem to enjoy having morning tea with him – he was sure it was true. He had noted their entwined hands on the return walk to the ship and his heart had never been fuller. Never been happier for two people and now he knew it was hope that had blossomed in his tender heart. Though he had been scared at the prospect of leaving the only home he had known, in truth it had not been a home. They had cared for him – but not cared about him. The young boy had blossomed under the attentions received from this motley crew of misfits. Sometimes he felt rather forgotten, when the urgency of a matter pressed upon the adults and he was shuffled about. But he never felt unwanted. Here he finally felt that he belonged; that he had a place. He sighed deeply. _Surely they would want tea? No coffee!! James sometimes drank coffee in the morning._ Robert leaped up from the seat and was out the cabin door fast as his small feet could carry him. As he proceeded down the passageway he noted the sounds of singing coming from their cabin. 

Lorna was singing, her voice softy resonating through the passage. Robert smiled – he missed her lovely voice. She used to sing on the rare occasion they had worked in the kitchen back at the Delaney manse. Or sometimes humming softly while she read a book in the chair by the fire. A few times when he first came to the manse and had trouble settling at night her soothing voice would ease his crossing into dreamy sleep. He missed it and wondered if James had heard her sing before this morning. As he turned about and climbed the ladder, the melodic strains fading, he wondered how it was possible he could both be happy for James… and envious. 

~

The ship was already a flurry of activity that morning with the loading and sorting of supplies that arrived in preparation for sailing. The crew earning their worth after a few days spent at ease. Even Godfrey put to task as unofficial secretary in documenting everything neatly in a ledger passed to him by Atticus. He noticed several crates bearing the crest of Williams’s family and the sly wink cast from the one who had arranged their delivery. The good times would continue to roll as they sailed towards the port of New Orleans. Cholmondeley calmly took the book from his hands and added his own illegible scrawl when several items were loaded; a cryptic _careful with those crates gents_ tossed over his shoulder. The sailors carrying one of the crates immediately paused, a look of trepidation clouding their swarthy faces, knowing the skill set of the scarred man. Several others on board, including Atticus and Godfrey took involuntary steps back from the suspicious contents. Cholmondeley simply handed the ledger back and calmly walked away, leaving all to wonder what possible use James had intended for the chemist next. Atticus turned to the crew who still stood half terrified of their load of burden.

“Probably best far away from the gunpowder, right lads? On ya go.”

They passed cautiously by the chemist who with a mischievous smirk mouthed a silent “tread lightly,” before disappearing down the ladder to the galley below.   
There he found Robert staring at a handful of beans in complete confusion. He picked a bean between scarred fingertips and brought it to his nose inhaling deeply. His tongue darted out to sample the flavor and a sigh escaped. 

“Our Captain has seen to the finest I see.” 

He glanced at Robert, whose face held a lingering look of distaste over the aroma wafting from the beans. Surely he’d never figure out the reasons adults consumed such stuff. 

“Do you know what you’re doing lad?” 

Robert shook his head, eyes wide. Cholmondeley also shook his head in mock disappointment, “they teach nothing of import to children these days. Come, the lesson begins and this fine morning we will infuse our minds with the ancient, but still very worthy, Turkish method of coffee preparation.” 

He reached for a copper pot with a long handle and an odd contraption with a handle on the side and what looked like metal teeth over a small bowl. Taking Robert’s hand, he tipped the beans into the reservoir on top and then instructed the boy to turn the handle. Meanwhile the chemist prepped the burner and gathered both sugar and water. Once the beans were ground, the fine powder was put into the copper pot and the sugar and water added before being placed on the burner to bring to a boil. Robert could barely sit still while they waited, the galley filling with the aroma of the brew as the water heated. He prepared the cups and milk on a tray and included some of the fresh scones the cook had made that morning; fresh preserves the final touch. His young face flushed red in anticipation of delivering this surprise to the couple he loved. When it was ready, the steaming brew poured slowly into another pot to keep warm, he lifted the tray – but apprehension clouded his features. He lifted unsure eyes to Cholmondeley. 

“I don’t wish to disturb them though…”

The chemist smile reassuringly and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“They will not be put out by such a thoughtful gesture my boy, you can be assured of that. Well, Ms. Delaney surely not… but I am sure James sourly disposition will be greatly improved once the brew is consumed.” And he pushed him gently in the right direction. 

James and Lorna had returned to the bed, but it was a heart to heart discussion they were lost within this morning. They leaned against the back wall and one another, fingers of one hand entwined, while they began the difficult untwisting and sorting of James mind. It was easy to understand that the frequency of such dreams would likely increase the closer they got to his mother’s land. 

_“Isn’t that a question to be asked and answered in America?”_

America loomed close, and they both feared the impact it might have on his often fragile sense of reality. James felt the steadiness of her resolve and loyalty alongside him. He would not be facing the madness alone this time and it gave him such a degree of comfort he pulled her close and dropped a kiss upon her shoulder. Pushing the curling mass of sun burnt tresses back and trailing his lips along her slender neck. She lifted her head and pressed her cheek along his bristled jawline. The fire between them set low and simmering this morning as they simply basked in the certainty of one another; until the knock on the door intruded upon the intimacy of the moment. They exchanged knowing looks – surprised the boy had held out this long. 

James called out for admittance, but they made no movement from where they lounged upon the bed. That is until the delicious aroma pulled them to standing and they both exclaimed over the wonderful and thoughtful gesture. Lorna directed the young boy, beaming with pride, to the table and bade him join them while they enjoyed the delicious surprise. 

As Robert sat and listened to their easy manner with one another, he was pulled into the conversation with surprising ease. Responding to Lorna’s curious and gentle questions, and even laughing at James teasing ones. He’d never felt happier in his entire life. His tender, eager heart was bursting and he knew he would die for either of them. 

In the midst of James telling a sailing story from his youth, a knock sounded open the door. At his call to enter, William’s head poked through the portal. He pointed towards Robert seated at the table, trying his third attempt to drink the strong brew, grimacing at the sip though it was liberally laced with sugar.

“Aha! Just who I’ve been looking for.”

All three cast curious gazes, but Robert was already shifting to the edge of his seat in new anticipation.

“Once you are finished, here, if you are agreeable I have time between shipments for another lesson?”

James glanced between the two. “What kind of lesson? Is this more schooling?”

William winked at Robert. “Of a sort. Why don’t you and Mrs. Delaney come on deck and see for yourselves?”

The next half hour proved to be quite enjoyable for all who watched as William put the young boy through several sword fighting drills. James alternating between a sense of pride he’d never experienced before, and a hard lump in his throat that left a bitter taste in his mouth that it was William doing the instruction. William finished the lesson with a mock sword fight, causing Lorna no small amount of anxiety; though she attempted to hide it; cheering loudly for Robert while glimpsing the action between slender fingers. Towards the end of the mock battle, Robert had William in a backwards retreat, and unknown to the gentleman Atticus had snuck up behind him, laying his body across the deck boards. The skilled fighter’s feet were no match for the sailor’s prone bulk and backwards he tumbled to dust the deck with his broad back; Robert quickly claiming the victory with a point of his sword to his heart. All gathered cheered and laughed; clapping loudly for the young boy. Lorna kept one eye on James and saw that his shoulders were shaking lightly, but no sound came forth as his jaw was clamped shut. William leaped up from the deck, his face in mock injury as he started to chase both Atticus and Robert around the deck.

“Bad form!!! Bad form I say!” 

He caught the young boy about the waist and proceeded to use him as a shield against the feigned attacks from Atticus. Gradually pushing the sailor across the deck until he was up against the side, where Atticus threw up his arms in surrender when faced with the possibility of an ocean dip. All three of them fell to laughing like fools. After catching his breath, Robert ran over to where James and Lorna stood, his hands grabbing both of her own tightly.

“Did ya see me fight Ms. Lorna??!! Was I good?”

Lorna felt her heart squeezed and pulled the boy in close, “I did and you were amazing. I feel very much in good hands as we sail on to America.” 

He lifted hesitant eyes to James who still stood in his typical stoic stance, though if one looked close enough, as Lorna often did, there was a brightness in his gaze that softened the usually brooding glare. He patted the boy on the back and gave a half smile. 

“Well done Robert. Well done indeed.”

The boys’ face shone like the sun. Just as he was debating whether it might be a good time to hug James too, another round of deliveries were announced. All available hands were set to help sort and load the various items. James looked at the amount of work yet to be done, and then pulled his watch from his pocket; thumb circling around its face as he glanced out over the open sea. Lorna stepped closer, one arm still about the boy.

“Are you expecting more to be delivered today James?”

James shook his head, but his face still seemed to register a small amount of worry. The sun would set soon and he had no desire to sail from the harbor in the dark. 

“Might we miss the tide then? Can we help unload or sort perhaps?”

He turned and putting his watch away, shook his head. “No. The Caribbean sea is an amphidromic zone.” At both their curious looks he added, “It means a zero tide sea. Basically we are always at high tide.”

Robert stepped closer, eyes looking to the horizon, “So the water level never changes even when the moon phase changes?”

Impressed, James finally offered a full smile. “Well it might change slightly due to other factors, but no – not in terms of typical tidal currents.”

Lorna cast James a meaningful look. “Well it sounds quite complicated – and fascinating, doesn’t it Robert? How long does it take one to learn about calculating tides James?”

He wasn’t sure if he loved her more than ever before in that moment, or if he was mildly put out for her orchestration of the matter. He did know he needed a way to reach the boy – much as how Cholmondeley and William seemed to so easily do – and he was grateful for her kind and knowing heart. He gave her a wink coupled with a wry smile that let her know his conflicted mind, but that he also appreciated her faith in him. 

“Well, it cannot be taught in a single afternoon.” He met Robert’s gaze. “But I think we can get a rudimentary start on it today – if you are agreeable Robert?” 

The boy practically jumped forward in his eagerness. “Yes sir!! Most definitely Mr. Delaney.”

James smiled and drew the boy forward. “Alright then. Tell me, how have your math studies been progressing?” 

The boy’s face fell somewhat, though he quickly assured him that he was doing all the work given to him by both Godfrey and Cholmondeley, but that truthfully it was slow progress. James nodded in understanding.

“That’s alright, we will work with what you know so far.” 

The boy sighed in relief. James stepped back towards Lorna, kissing her softly on the cheek, pausing to hold her gaze for a few moments. The flicker passed eye to eye: _I know what you did there._ Before he turned away, his mouth leaned in close to her ear.

“Why don’t you instruct the cook that we shall dine alone in my cabin this evening?” 

She smiled softly, nodded - and pushed him back towards the boy. 

Much to her delight, Robert stepped closer and standing on his toes, reached up to place a wet kiss on her cheek, before dashing off to join James at the bow of the boat.   
Her heart could not be fuller. 

~

Later they dined by soft candlelit and with the gentle sway of ocean waves beneath their feet once more. The Good Hope had left the port of Plymouth behind and the island of Montserrat was a smaller dot on the darkened horizon as they sailed out into the Caribbean Sea. While they had their tea, James showed her a map of the area and all the islands they would pass on route to the Gulf of Mexico. Lorna confessed she would stop at every single one if they could. James chuckled, but he loved her sense of adventure and willingness to surrender to the experience. For not the first time he wondered how he possibly once imagined another in her place; his mind still prone to drift to the past every now and then. Mostly seen with a critical eye now; the heavy hardheartedness slowly melting away. The disappointment he once felt at discovering the love he had held onto was not love at all, now faded and replaced with something bigger… and truer. Largely due to a fact he finally realized: the shape and depth of her heart was shown and spoken to him daily. He felt almost foolish for having never noted the absence of such an important distinction regarding love for so many years. 

Briefly James left the cabin to do a final check on his ship’s progress as it sailed; the night watch all in their places and the ship growing quiet. Godfrey was standing at the bow and they shared a few moments staring out over the calm black waters. 

“You look well James.” 

James, head bent to watch the waves break against the bow grunted, then his voice low, “I am not Godders.”

Godfrey turned to study his profile, saw the worry lines that were still visible, but he also noted the new slackness in his jaw and that the small smile he cast also reached his eyes. He laid a hand over one of James own and felt it relax its grip upon the rail.

“No, perhaps not all together… yet. But I think perhaps you’ve finally found a very good reason to stay alive now? Press forward despite the trying time that may loom ahead.” He glanced briefly over his shoulder in the direction of the Captains’ Quarters, one brow lifted. James followed his gaze and Godfrey saw the way his features brightened.

“I was not expecting her. This… gift. I’m not a suitable man…”

Godfrey emitted a most unladylike snort, “Oh rubbish James. We are all part of your damned are we not? All getting what we deserve?” At James curious look, he shrugged his shoulders lightly, “It works both ways James. Nothing comes from nothing, perhaps you’ve a heart in there after all and it simply found its match.”

He glanced back to the stern, saw the black shadow from whence they’ve come. 

“No man is an island James. We all need help.” He lifted his hand and returned his own pensive gaze forward. “We all need someone to lighten our load and ease the way.” He sighed deeply, straightened his wig in the night breeze. “It’s an amazing thing to have someone believe in you, is it not? Someone who lets you… be you?” 

James gripped his friend’s shoulder, feeling overwhelmed with all that had passed this day. “Yes, it is Godders. That much I do know, and I would be a better man for her because of it.” His gaze stretched forth, another island passing by to the starboard of the ship. “I should think you will like New Orleans Godders. I think the city will agree with you very much.”

He clapped his friend upon his back and Godfrey listened to his heavy boots crossing the deck; hoping that his words would prove true. That perhaps this new city, new life might also help him lay the past to ashes. Perhaps his heart could also open to new and unexpected possibilities. 

_We all get what we deserve._

When James returned to the cabin, he found the fire lit and the room aglow with several candles; Lorna reading by the fire dressed only in her shortened summer shift, her long tresses hanging aglow. She held a hand out, pulling him down to the floor beside her and slowly removed his shirt. 

“Lie down James."

He stretched out before the fire with a groan, all the tension from this emotional day having settled in his shoulders and neck. Her easy weight settled upon him, as she straddled his lower back and then the groan deepened when her hands began to massage the strained and weary muscles. Her slender fingers gliding easily upon his skin and the scent of the lotion filling the air. He felt her body pressed close, soft and warm as she kneaded the tension from what seemed his very spirit, and he marveled yet again at how the world seemed cast new during these quiet moments spent together. 

After, she led a drowsy and content James to their bed, pushing him gently down upon the soft mattress while she straddled his pelvis and continued massaging his chest in firm strokes. Her eyes holding his until she leaned forward and kissed him softly. His whole body relaxing under her attentive nature, draining of even his usual stubborn will that would have sought to take control and toss her upon her back. This night he let her take the reins; knowing her need to instill light and heal, and love him fully with body and heart as only she can. The unsolved puzzle of his mind temporarily forgotten – the desire to search out the missing pieces laid to rest when her body covered and moved upon his own. The simple touch of her hands gliding over his skin moving him in ways he’d never known, so that all remained was the need to draw her closer. Tucking the flaming tendrils behind her ears as she leaned over him. Then tangling in her hair so that he could keep her mouth within reach of his own; savouring the taste of their passionate merging. His hunger a patient craving this night, he leisurely tasted and teased the pale flesh until the sweet nectar flowed and coated his thighs. No words passed between them; all was spoken in the lingering gazes and the soft velvet tremblings that broke within her. So intense he both melted and exploded, succumbing to the pleasure she invoked. 

Hot, dazed and contently spent they lay with limbs still entwined; the deep relaxation of desires met pulling him into sleep. He surrendered to the dying light with the tender stroke of her fingers upon him and the sweet melody of her voice washing over him. A lyrical river that gently merged with his own. 

And the sea was never full.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James seeks to have a clear mind today. Lorna is most hopeful. 
> 
> Others, not so much. But it's all in good fun. Because this crew works hard, and has fun.

If one could awake gingerly – eyelids hesitantly lifting to greet the day and begrudgingly allowing the world to come into focus; this was how James greeted the following morning. As though pulled up slowly, breath held, through water and breaking the surface wondering if today his head will work. Maybe today his brain will be wrapped in a cloudy fog; Nature’s anesthesia to ease lingering trauma. Eyes adjusting to the early morning light, he blinked away the ill serving comforts of old and hoped instead for a day of clarity. Glancing about the small cabin, his eyes briefly resting on artifacts, maps, old photos - registering every detail in sharp focus. His body shifted and stretched, feeling the warmth of her own beside him and a wave of emotion swept over him remembering how she cared for him while he floundered in the fog. Allowing him space until he drifted back to her once more. Lying next to her in the stillness of the early morn James finally accepted that one cannot truly banish bad memories. That there will always be flashbacks and times of confusion. Even a brief solace on a tropical island provides no place to hide, though his heart lifted remembering her desire to remain there with him. 

His eyes rested on her features, softly composed in slumber; lips curling into the semblance of a smile. Her hair hung loose and tangled, and he rather liked that it gave her a wild appearance. An external declaration of her untamed soul. There would be days like this too. Another step towards a future. Natures balance the gift of beauty; it was always around you – one just had to notice it.  
A finger reached out to touch her nose; trailing down its length and he held back a soft chuckle when it wrinkled in her sleep. Holding back laughter, he repeated the action until her eyes slowly opened. His heart clenching at the easy smile that breaks before she’s barely awake, while her own flips over knowing his face is the first thing she looks upon this new day. She playfully tried to grab his finger, while her nose still crinkled pertly. He dodged her grasp and pressed the digit into the bow at the top of her mouth, before replacing it with a lingering kiss. His breath soft against her lips. 

“Morning beautiful.” 

It seemed impossible that she would have a moment of shyness, as her bottom lip was pulled between even white teeth, and her eyes drifted briefly down. The crooked smile quickly flashed and he’s never been more thankful for opening himself up to the possibility of them. Liquid brown eyes raised to his own, intelligence and humour swirling in their depths and it’s impossible not to be held prisoner. How her cheeks infused with pink took him by surprise – but also pleased him considerably. The longer he held her gaze, the more flushed she became. The rose tint creeping down to her chest where the cover gaped away from the curve of her breasts. Glancing down he could see the tip of one rosebud peak and his finger dropped from where it still rested on her mouth and traveled down the slender column of her throat, pushing the cover away to expose it fully. He circled it slowly and her lips parted in a breathy exhale. 

The tenderness of the morning suddenly broken when he sat up and settled his back against the wall, long legs stretched out in front. His hands reached to pull her up and onto his lap, her bare limbs soft against his muscled thighs. The touch of skin on skin always catching his breath. She had pulled the blanket along with her, holding it in front of her chest, still clinging to a timorous bent. Gently he tugged it down, watching the soft material caress her breasts, then stomach until it pooled upon her spread thighs. His ardent stare pinning her still for now. 

“I like to see what’s underneath.”

His hands slid along her thighs, pushing the blanket back and then settling in a strong grip at her hips. Still she stared silently back, unblinking – the colour continuing to blossom in her cheeks. Lips parted in anticipation. The look she cast him suggesting submission, but he saw the challenge hidden in the brightness and slight crinkling in the corners. His fingers grazed along her soft skin, down across her buttocks and then up her slender spine and back down, before grasping her firmly and guiding her closer. Brown eyes narrowed slightly. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip. Still she didn’t move or touch him, but he could feel the energy contained within the tense muscles of her body. It was then he realized it was not his actions that were bringing the flush of colour, but likely her own private thoughts. The flame of desire, but also hesitation, now clearly seen in her gaze. She wanted something, but she didn’t know how to ask. 

No sooner did the idea strike and he felt a warm rush sweep over his entire body, bringing his cock to full mast and his own harsh intake of breath. A delicate eyebrow raised when she felt the hard flesh poke into her stomach. The sultry smile that spread slowly and the flames burst to blazing. Desperate to take control, he moved to lean forward, but her hands flew up to his chest and pressed him back against the wall. Her pelvis executing one slow grind against his erection. His own brow arched. It seemed gone was the gentle and soothing lover of the previous evening and he’d awoken a seductress this morning. He was not opposed, but he would sample that tempting mouth or he would indeed go mad right now. Reaching a hand up to grip the back of her neck and pull her down, he felt the slight resistance, but the coy smile and hooded gaze held. He had intended to be gentle this morning, but as soon as their lips met, his mouth hungrily devoured her own. Demanding her to meet his passion and will. One hand held her fast, while the other reached down between them to take himself in hand so he could plunge within her. She held the kiss, but shifted her hips back; a sharp nibble on his bottom lip that had him pulling back. _Fuck, she was feisty this morning._ His blood was pounding in his ears, surprised and elated to experience this wanton side. A brief look of confusion crossed his features when she continued sliding down across his thighs, pulling further away. _If this little minx thinks she will stop this play now,_ … then a lump formed in his throat and he all but croaked:

“… Ohhh fuck.”

Just past his knees, she swung one dainty limb around and over, and turned to face the opposite wall – given him the most exquisite view of her pert ass and his breath sucked in a great moan. Gliding back once more, she settled her hips up close to his pelvis, and taking his hard length in hand, began rubbing the sensitive head across her wet mons. Head tipped back, her other hand reached back to pull his head closer, and he brushed the hair at her nape aside and fastened his mouth upon the exposed flesh. The long curve of her back was pressed up against his chest and his arms swept about her to squeeze a handful of perky breasts. Rubbing the pads of his thumbs across the hardened tips before drifting down to clasp her waist tight. Holding his throbbing shaft, she tilted her pelvis and pressed forward, guiding him in slowly before her hands gripped his thighs. She began to rock back and forth … 

… and James had a feeling he was going to remember what came next for a very long time. 

~

Cholmondeley climbed down into the galley just in time to halt Robert on his way up, deftly balancing a tray of coffee and morning foods. 

“Nay, nay young lad, I think not today.” 

Robert paused, a look of disappointment crossing his young face. 

“If we don’t not see our Captain shortly, I think it safe to assume he will not be joining us for some time as yet.” He took the tray from the young boy’s hands and proceeded towards the unoccupied Captain’s table. “But I thank you for kindly for the spoils. No sense all your hard work going to waste, right?” 

Robert sat down at the table with a sigh. Godfrey had not yet made an appearance, and William was assisting the crew on deck. Winds had tangled the lines and rigging in the night and much of the crew was on repair duty this morning. Due to the reckless and wanton behavior while in port, some of the ships daily maintenance had been neglected. Sailors were now paying the price for their folly under the hot Caribbean sun while they sanded, cleaned and painted the deck and other areas. Brass was being polished and iron inspected for rust. On his way to the galley Robert had glimpsed all the activity from averted eyes, as it seemed very much like life on a farm in his mind. Never ending toil. He much preferred being at the helm with Atticus, or consulting maps with James. The chemist shrewd eyes studied the boys’ petulant expression over the rim of the cup. 

“You know they will come for you eventually.” He posed dramatically, “All hands on deck!” 

Robert suppressed a laugh while nodding morosely. Suddenly his eyes widened and face brightened. 

“But they wouldn’t dare pull me away from my school studies?” He lifted hopeful eyes to the chemist own. The boy was shrewd, he’d give him that. Much like someone else on board. 

“Alright lad, you’ve pulled me into your tangled web of conspiracy. Math or Science?” 

Robert didn’t even hesitate, “Science!”

Cholmondeley nodded, it was as he suspected. The lad had as much fondness for experiments – often ending in booms – as much as himself. He glanced around the kitchen area, surveying the various items. Then rose to go pilfer the pantry. He gulped the last of his coffee. 

“Come boy, let us check our wares and see what kind of trouble we can brew.”

~

The morning rays now filtered brightly through the windows. Lorna lay on her side, bottom lip pulled between her teeth once more, eyes carefully studying him. James, still leaning against the wall - still somewhat short of breath and having trouble finding words. A problem that often plagued him due to the noise his brain was capable of making. Surely this was not the first time he had trouble filtering out what thoughts to hold back, and what to speak. However this was an entirely different kind of confusion – not that he was complaining. At all. The pleasure that was found that morning was quite evident in both their smiles. He rolled his head along the wall to catch her gaze, images of what had just transpired between them still playing in his head. _Damn if he didn’t already want her again. And she knew._ He saw it in this new way her eyes held his own. A steadiness, or certainty. A confidence not just in herself, but concerning them. He had known for months that she was his, but it seemed the truth that he was also hers had now fully settled in her own heart. And secure in that now, she wasn’t above using him to find her pleasure. She had taken the reins and he was pleased beyond all measure. Her eyes briefly dipped to his semi hard erection. He grunted. She chewed the tip of her finger, and it touched him that her eyes still sought a measure of reassurance. He grunted. Again. _Damn. I should say something._

“Madam. That was… unexpected.”

Her face fell slightly as a look of worry entered her eyes. 

_Shit._

He quickly leaned forward, gathering her close and pulled the finger from between her teeth before covering her mouth with his own. He drew the kiss out, seeking to restore that confidence. His lips trailed over to her ear, breath hot on her neck. 

“And delightful.”

Her body relaxed beneath him and a small chuckle escaped. He drew back to rest a hand on either side of her head so he could look down on her – showing the truth in his eyes. A question still lingering in her own.

“Yes?”

He nodded emphatically. “Oh yes.” And kissed her once more before drawing back again. The question he was dying to ask no longer contained. 

“But … how, I mean where did you …?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh I don’t think you will like the answer James.”

His brow raised. “Oh hell, now you have to tell me.” Advancing upon her again, he gently pinned her hands above her head – but noted she offered no resistance at all. 

“Ummm, I saw it in a book.”

Eyes narrowed and head slanted he pondered a moment, and then a groan released. “Aaaww fuck. Cholmondeley?” 

She nodded and he released her arms and rolled off to lay next to her, his mouth turned into a pouting frown. She laughed that he should still feel possessive. 

“I think the point James, is not where I gained the information, but rather who benefitted from its use?” She gave him a pointed look and waited. 

James squeezed his eyes shut tight trying to forget the bawdy manner in which the chemist had spoken of her; how it had raised an unfamiliar jealous pang in him. Instead he sought to concentrate on the more recent moments when he she had ridden him – backwards - until every last drop had been milked from him with the powerful clenching of her own release. The very fine view from behind that had him finding it necessary to close his eyes in order to last. Her head tipped back and the long line of her throat exposed, his hand lightly holding it so his mouth could easily access the tender skin. How she had glided across him so smoothly soaked in her own desire. His eyes opened and he glanced towards her. 

He couldn’t deny the powerful urge to pull her up against him again. The spark had not yet extinguished in her own eyes. And her smile of satisfaction made it difficult to hold a grudge. His rising manhood demonstrating his own eagerness. Still the thought came unbidden of the squat and scarred chemist doing such things with her and his desire dwindled swiftly. His head rolled and he squeezed eyes shut tight again, pinching the corners with his fingers. She laughed softly. 

He mumbled through fingers over his mouth, “Can we not discuss another matter now?”

Lorna laughed once more, and then her expression grew serious. “Sure James, if you’d like to discuss this approaching blockage and how it’s affecting your mood. Your sleep. I am certainly agreeable.”  
She received another grunt in reply. His eyes wearily rolling. 

“Or perhaps the price that is likely to be on your head once we do land in America. What then?” He mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. “James, I know it is troubling you. Do you think you can hide such things from me now?”

He held up a hand, but his head did nod in agreement. “I was thinking more along the lines of sexual matters.”

Lorna barely batted an eye, used to his directness. “Then you should have been more specific.”

A smirk flashed. “I intend to be very specific.” One hand squeezed her thigh above the knee, then slowly began to wander along the outward line of her hip. “First you will need to roll over.”

“James.”

“On your stomach.”

A slight incline of her head, “I understood, and I am serious.”

His hand had reached the flat of her stomach, lightly traced her pelvic bones. “Oh I assure you I am most serious my love.”

Lorna sighed deeply. He saw the glimmer of interest she tried to hide, while she knew he was evading the question. Her hand covered his own. “James. First you.”  
He met her gaze, silently nodded.

“Tell me why you’re anxious about the blockade.” He held still. “James, I can feel the tension in you… despite recent activity.”

His brow arched, “Oh, is that what you were on about then? Releasing tension?” 

She took note of the flatness in which he spoke. The lack of teasing in his tone, and carefully proceeded. She would never lie to him. “No, well, yes.” A puff of air released. “I’d help you in any way I could James. And you should know that. Besides, I found it in the book and I was curious.”

Her hands folded neatly over her chest. The faint blush returned and his jaw relaxed – her honesty regarding her desires cooling his temper. She completely lacked the practiced art of playing the coquette – to which he was immensely grateful. Though he didn’t doubt she could call it forth with dramatic flair if she choose, but such stuff she deemed specific to the stage. He loved her lack of guile during their shared confidences. Taking one of her hands in his own, he patiently explained. 

“If there is trouble at the blockade, we have no recourse.” Her head slanted curious of his meaning. “We won’t be able to out run them, and we certainly cannot out gun them. Having only two small canons aboard.” His hands spread wide and his head dipped forward, “In short madam, I am anxious because we cannot fight.”

He could see her thoughtful consideration. “You think Carlsbad gave a false script? Or would betray?” She slumped back upon the pillows. “Oh! I had a knife to my throat for nothing then?!”

His jaw tensed at the thought of her in danger. He had assumed it would be the easiest of tasks he required accomplished. Women to women, fair stakes. Certainly she would have carried her own knife. He was still surprised a social parasite such as the Countess had it in her. He pondered her question, then dismissed the idea that the woman would betray them.

“I don’t think she would. Colonnade did vouch for it also. It’s just… if there is trouble, we are not equipped to fight a warship.”

Fingers rubbed his eyes once more, but he blinked them open when she openly chuckled. 

“As opposed to a pirate ship? Which you single handily burned and sunk, and managed to rescue me still?”

“Ahhaa.” Their eyes met briefly in remembrance. It already seemed so long ago. “I had help and it was only one pirate ship – not a fleet, as there is likely to be in the blockade.” He leaned closer, touched her nose as he had that morning. “If there had been more pirates ships, you’d still be with them me heartie.” His face paled. “Or sold. Or worse.”

“Or William’s wife.” She knew it was risk to tease him thus, but the mood had grown far too serious, and she sought to ease his worries, even if it meant his ill mood turned on herself. Indeed, his mind needed something else to chew.

James head tipped back and he growled his displeasure at the ceiling. His tone once again mock self-pity, as he shook his head at her. “I’m beset by your ardent suitors at every turn!” 

She laughed outright at his dramatics. “James honestly.”

“No, no madam. I shall go bunk with Atticus and seek to escape this cruel torment you have flung.”

Leaning forward, she rubbed her finger across his cheek, her eyes bright with humour, “I should think Godfrey would be more accommodating, don’t you agree James?”

His eyes narrowed. “Touche.”

Lorna fell back, overcome with laughter. His head continued to shake, but his body was following her own, until he lay atop; a pleading look in his eyes.

“Can we not discuss other matters now?”

She ran her tongue across her lips. “I am supposed to be on my stomach.”

He grunted into the hollow of her neck, but didn’t move. “Another time love. But if you are of mind, I’ll not hinder your own advances.” 

They shared a smile, her own words to him returned. Then he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed; pulling her over to sit astride his strong thighs. The dark bands drew her attention, such contrast to her own skin and she ran a finger lightly over them before inching closer to his manhood. James braced his feet against the thick wood planks of the flooring and then leaned back, hands braced upon the mattress. She paused, unsure of his intent. Both brows raised and he smiled calmly.

“Oh, I’m completely at your disposal my lady.” A sly wink. “At your leisure my love.”

By god he loved her crooked smile. And everything that came next. 

Afterward, as she lay sleeping peacefully and he dressed to go check on his ship, he considered that she knew full well he had needed a different kind of release today. That the darkness was threatening to close in the nearer they sailed to America and his anxiety increased. Her earlier gentle care had soothed him greatly. The love she so easily demonstrated offering him shelter. Completely tuned to his needs, she had adjusted accordingly. Continually proving he could trust her with the vulnerable side he sought to hide. Then today, effortlessly taking control, so that he didn’t have to feel the weight of that responsibility constantly. She could handle him no matter what form, or mood he possessed. 

In fact, she handled him so well, he was definitely considering gifting her a book of his own. 

~ 

After a long day of hard toil, it was many who sought a measure of tension release while they gathered to dine in the galley later that evening. Spirits already seemed high when James and Lorna arrived, Robert already seated beside her chair and refusing to meet James eyes when he greeted him with a brush of his hair. James cast a look at Lorna, and that flicker passed between them, _be patient with him. _James shrugged and sighed; stalking in his uneven gait towards his seat at the opposite end. It seemed he was forever one step ahead, and two steps back with the boy. Dropping his weight into the chair and accepting the glass of rum from the cabin boy, he leaned towards Atticus.__

__“How fare’s our course Atticus?”_ _

__“Steady as she goes James. If our two heads have calculated right, we should be sailing right between them islands later tomorrow.”_ _

__James grunted. Atticus took a drink. As did the others around the table. Lost in his musings regarding their course of direction, James failed to notice the odd behavior._ _

__Lorna however had noted that an odd disquiet had come over their usual company when they had arrived. And she was certain there were several individuals hiding grins behind either their hands, or the edge of a glass. She met Robert’s gaze and definitely detected a hint of trouble. Now she watched as all the men around the table raised their glasses to drink at the same time. James raising his own a full second later in a lazy salute before also drinking._ _

__“When we spy the isle of Jamaica, we will plot a course to the Port of Falmouth. North side, west of the Isle Atticus”_ _

__Atticus snorted, “Falmouth? I think we got enough rum to sink this ship already James, ya want more still?”_ _

__James grunted and then laughed briefly._ _

__Lorna watched all glasses raise down both sides of the table. William’s gaze met her own and then quickly averted. Godfrey’s elbow nudged her on the right, and he cast a not too subtle wink. At her lifted brow, he leaned closer._ _

__“It’s a game.” Pointing to his glass, “A drinking game. We planned it before you arrived.” He nudged her elbow once again, a more sly grin this time. “Good of you to keep him busy for a spell darling.”_ _

__Lorna rolled her eyes, and then quickly glanced up when she heard the familiar grunt followed by another odd sound she had become accustomed to emitting from the love of her life seated down the table. Glasses once more raised and understanding finally dawned. She whispered to Godfrey, “Oh good heavens. You can’t be serious?!” Another grunt came and glasses tipped once more. James appeared oblivious. “My stars, you’ll be under the table in thirty minutes the lot of you.”_ _

__Godfrey gasped in outrage. “Thirty minutes! My dear, we played far worse games at the Molly House. I’m no fledgling I assure you.” He quickly tipped his glass as he noted the others were setting their own on the table._ _

__She glanced around the table, trying to meet each eye, but each man suspiciously avoided her gaze. Except for French Bill who characteristically was tucking heartily into his meal; raising his glass as the others did and she questioned if he even knew why._ _

__For several minutes, Atticus and William attempted to grill James regarding his intentions en route to New Orleans. Most of their questions are replied in his trademark grunts and odd noises that are inserted when he is not of mind to discuss his plans. He raises his own glass almost in perfect timing, but his ill ease of this day prevents him from making any connection. The banter and laughter around the table increases quickly and they find themselves refilling glasses quicker than usual. James stoic manner of monosyllabic responses ensuring speedy consumption. Another bottle is uncorked and passed around and James finally takes note, casting a glance towards Lorna. She is drinking tea this evening. Another question forms in his mind, but he pushes it aside more concerned with the rate the others are consuming his rum. With some chagrin he notes at this rate, she will be the only sober ship member soon. He also notes Robert has no wine glass this evening and is sharing her tea. His eyes narrowed, and he glances down the table sides. Godfrey is considerably flushed of face, his wig askew. Cholmondeley is already quoting Shakespeare, but the words are slurred. William and Atticus both seem relatively normal, but their questions are never ending. Leaning back in his chair, he places his hands together, lost in thought and observation; an involuntary grunt escapes._ _

__Around the table all glasses raise, except Lorna who demurely fingers the edge of her tea cup, eyes resting on him. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward._ _

__“I can tell you a little history about Falmouth, if it pleases you…hhhmmm?”_ _

__Heads nodded and glasses were tipped. James left his own untouched, eyes locked straight ahead._ _

__“Muuahah.” Another round of raised glasses. “It was once owned by an Englishman named Edward Moulton Barrett, “ his eyes glanced around the table, mostly resting on Lorna and Cholmondeley. “Anyone think that name might be familiar, hmm?”_ _

__Cholmondeley quickly drank from his cup before replying, “That must be the father of Edward Barrett Moulton Barrett. He married into the very prosperous Graham Clarke family I believe.” He paused in thought. “Yes, Mary is his wife’s name I’m certain.”_ _

__James made a half murmuring, half grunt while his head nodded._ _

__Glasses were raised, and this time Lorna caught James glance. A subtle wink._ _

__Met with confused faces, Cholmondeley continued, “They moved into that huge house in Herefordshire. Remember it was all the talk a few years back. Barrett converting it to stables and building that huge mansion that looks like it’s straight from the pages of _Arabian Nights Entertainment._ ” _ _

__Heads nodded in understanding, while James squeaked his own reply._ _

__With barely concealed groans, they all drank. Godfrey’s head began to list towards the table. James continued._ _

__“Well his father inspires talk of his own. Fortune gleaned off the backs of slaves that work his plantations.”_ _

__A pause for a grunt. More weary groans and he noticed Godfrey’s head hits the table with a thud. Beside him Cholmondeley has a grin plastered to his face. Oddly enough, Bill is still eating, or perhaps it is seconds. Only Atticus, William and Lorna appear to be listening attentively._ _

__“Well old Barret broke up his lands, selling the pieces to his planter friends thus ensuring the tradition of trading human souls for labour, but generous man that he was, donated a portion by the seaside for a courthouse, church and public gardens.” He spread a hand wide before him. “Which will be the very port we shall hopefully,” A glance at Atticus, “sail into very soon. Hhhmm.”_ _

__Everyone raised a glass. Lorna rolled her eyes and cast James a pleading look. He was merely toying with them now, she was certain._ _

__“Perhaps in the distant future we shall return and the Barret family will have found themselves rich enough finally to abolish their nasty tradition.”_ _

__Feeling somewhat low, he leaned back, looked to each face as a somber mood settled around the table. “Why the long faces gentlemen? Mauuah.”_ _

__Glasses half-heartedly raised. Godfrey attempted, but unceremoniously slipped beneath the table. James slanted his head, but still feigned understanding. There was a brief pause, and then the table erupted in laughter. James holding Lorna’s gaze, who shook her head slowly back and forth. The charge passed between them. _Finish them so we can retire James._ He flashed a wicked smile, the clapped his hand startling them all. _ _

__“My apologies, I’ve dampened spirits this evening. So, how about a song? My memory of sailing tunes suitable for a lady’s ears is dim, for that I must beg forgiveness love.” He winked at Lorna. “Ahh, perhaps I shall just hum it eh?”_ _

__And then James began a rather odd and decidedly off tune grunted rendition of an old sailor tune. The crew in the back heard the ditty and filled in the words, but James only smiled and continued. Glasses ceased being set upon the table. Cholmondeley simply chugged from a bottle. William had a frightful case of hiccups._ _

__Unable to contain himself, James leaned back and began to laugh. Atticus, his eye suspiciously glinting, pointed a shaky finger somewhere in the relative blurry vicinity of James face._ _

__“Yer an evil bastard James, aye that ya are.”_ _

__James grunted._ _

__Cholmondeley uncorked another bottle._ _

__Lorna decided she had enough and with an amused “good night and good luck gentlemen,” came to James end of the table and placed a kiss on his forehead. James of course, grunted a good night.  
Atticus cursed. William hiccupped. And Cholmondeley drank._ _

__A few minutes passed of no one daring to ask James any more questions. Though the man himself simply sat and stared into space, every now and then emitting a mumbled grunt or murmur as though he was lost in thought. The glasses raising and lowering a little slower each time. The sounds of snoring came from beneath the table. The crew at the tables behind them still cycling through sailing ditties. James grunted along every now and then. No one at the table wanted to give in, or give themselves away, and so they sat stuck in their own game which had slowly become a blurred nightmare. Leaning back James raised his own glass, drained it, then slammed it back upon the table._ _

__“I am in all your heads gentlemen. Always.” And with that bade them all good night._ _

__Not to be denied a parting shot, Atticus loudly quipped. “Aye, you’ll not fool any of us ya Devil. Yer mostly abed these days James Delaney!”_ _

__From the top of the ladder, only a grunted laugh was heard. They all looked at one another in confusion. French Bill, somehow still completely sober, was the clear voice of reason._ _

__“I don’t think it counts if he’s left the table gents.”_ _

__Atticus and William nodded in relief at his sound ruling._ _

__Cholmondeley finished his bottle._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edward Moulton Barrett was the grandfather of famed English poet Elizabeth Barret Browning. She dreamed of going to Jamaica most of her life, but persistent illness prevented it. Eventually she would become an integral part of abolishing slavery. Jamaica was often cited in her poetry:
> 
>  
> 
> _My dream is of an island place_  
>  Which distant seas keep lonely  
> A little island on whose face  
> The stars are watchers only
> 
>  
> 
> Historical note: The courthouse was actually built in 1817, so I've cheated a few years to mention it in the story. The most important part of its history is that the fortunes were made based on slave trade and labour - which of course will affect James profoundly. It was the most prosperous port outside of the new Americas and it would have been typical to see as many as 30 tall ships in it's harbour at any given moment of the day. In a strange twist, the island will be one of the first places to abolish slavery not so many years later, courtesy of the work of William Knibb.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy sailing times.   
> A calm before the storm?

The sun had barely risen from her rest - Aurora’s chariot just beginning its fiery charge across the mauve gray dawn horizon, when James carefully and quietly eased his long limbs from the bed. Seated at the bottom edge, he yawned and stretched while scanning the floor for his shirt. Caught beneath Lorna’s shift, he tugged the corner and gave it a firm shake before pulling it over his head, tucking his beaded necklace down the front. Grabbing his pants from the back of a chair, he thrust one leg inside while his eyes roamed over the still sleeping form in the bed. 

One pale arm was curled beside her head, hand resting on a still sun kissed cheek and fingers lightly grazing her temple. The other arm had flung across the side of the bed he had just vacated, as though she searched for the missing warmth that had lay beside her just moments prior. His eyes drifted down to find creamy orbs just barely visible beneath the meager blanket covering that had twisted about them as they slept. One slim pale leg also freed from its restricting confines – the curve of her hip just barely glimpsed. A tempting tableau presented before him and he momentarily checked his sanity for even considering leaving the cabin. Resolved to be seen on deck before the noon day sun heated the planks, he turned his head away and fastened his trousers on the way to the door. Just as his hand reached for the handle, he paused and raised his head, then turned on his heel and strode back to the bed. Bending close he kissed her brow, and smiling rose to leave once again. She shifted at his touch, a sigh escaping through parted rosebud lips. The blanket slipping further down her lovely chest and James couldn’t decide if he was in heaven or hell. 

Stepping away from the winsome form and squashing his own nagging needs, he quickly left the room. Resolved to assume his Captain’s duties, and more convinced than ever he had to be quite mad – at least in some way. 

_Love is a kind of madness._

He stopped to rouse Robert along the way. The boy practically leaped from the bed upon waking; feet hitting the floor with a soft thud and ready to follow James into … whatever it seemed. Since James had not even spoken any word but his name. Without hesitation he pulled a shirt over his long breeches and hopped into a pair trousers. All of which beginning to show signs of wear. James quietly frowned as he considered the poor state of the young boys dress. Not that his own attire was anything resembling fashion, but then James considered clothing mostly a nuisance and would quite happily walk about his day bereft of anything but a brooding visage. The confinement of clothing just another sort of cage about his person. His body temperature seemingly still set for the heat of the African continent. 

“Is that all you have brought?”

Robert raised wide eyes, a puzzled look upon his face. Which was better by far than the normal fear he displayed around James. He swept a hand to indicate the clothing. 

“No sir. That is two other shirts, one short sleeved, longer breeches and one extra pair of pants is all.” 

James nodded thoughtfully continuing, “And are they also of similar condition?”

The boys head ducked to the floor and his voice came softly, “Aye Mr. Delaney. Possibly worse I imagine.”

James nodded with a grunt. Seeing his level of discomfort, he said no more on the subject. Placing arm about his shoulders, he lead the way into the passage. 

“Today we must chart a course through the Jamaica Channel, which lies between the islands of Jamaica and Hispaniola, in the Greater Antilles’. Do you think you are ready to assist in this?”

Wide eyes and a firm nod were the only replies and with a grunt James deemed it sufficient. 

~

Atticus, Bill and William were already seated in the galley digging into their breakfast when they arrived. A fair amount of teasing occupied the first few minutes as Atticus was surprised to see their Captain so early from his bunk. A good five minutes was spent trying to guess what James had done to be thrown from his own cabin so early this morn; since certainly he would not have left of his own accord. Even William had trouble suppressing a smile as the jabs were traded back and forth; the blush on Robert’s cheeks deepening with each remark. Though the lad felt a bit ill in his tummy since they were speaking about Ms. Lorna, and he wasn’t quite sure if he should join the laughter. 

James grunted and accepted the slight rebuffs, for indeed he had been of want to linger in the mornings. Glancing at the boy, James noted the conflict in his half smile and slight frown and suddenly raised a hand. 

“Alight gentlemen, and I use the term very loosely.” His glance was mostly for Atticus who shrugged, uncaring. “Point made. I have been somewhat derelict of duty of late, apologies.” His tone dropped and his gaze narrowed, “But I do very strongly urge you all to remember that while I enjoy a well formed jab as much as you… this is no common doxy we speak of, hhmmmnn?” A pause sent the room deadly quiet. “For your purposes, she **is** Mrs. Delaney – in every way.” His eyes rested on each face briefly, until he received a respectful nod in response. William stood at once, performing a slight bow.

“Well said Mr. Delaney, well said. A fitting reminder regarding our manners, and the value of the lady in question. Indeed I am certain that I speak for all, that the lady… Mrs. Delaney… is held in very high esteem.”

James glanced as heads nodded, most exuberantly Roberts. Satisfied, he took his seat at the head of the table, while the cabin boy set a plate before him.

“Then it is on to business gents. Atticus, refresh my memory regarding the Jamaica Channel.” 

Soon the table was covered with various maps and charts, while James kept Robert close to his side, making sure he understood all that was discussed. Impressed with the boy’s quick mind, he patted his back encouragingly when he was asked a question. Giving the correct answer, Atticus declared he would make a fine sailor one day if he choose. 

Forgetting himself, bright eyed and elated Robert exclaimed, “Twill be better than shoveling shit, that’s for sure.”

A hush fell over the men. Robert’s face paled as he stared back at James. Until each man broke into hysterical laughter, easing the tension. 

Atticus banged the table once, “Yer half way there already lad.”

Smiling, James leaned down close to the boys’ ear, his tone low, “Just not in front of Mrs. Delaney, eh lad? Or we both will be sleeping on deck, hhmmm?”  
Robert smiled and grunted. 

~

Lorna was sipping the last mouthful of tea in the cabin with Pearle and Godfrey joining her this morning, when suddenly the door burst wide and Robert charged through, his mouth open and eyes large in his flushed face. He stood on the brink, mouth still hanging open but no words escaping as yet; only his hands gesturing wildly. 

“Bloody hell Robert,” Godfrey leaned back in his chair with his hand over his heart, startled by the young boy’s alarming entrance. 

Pearle calmly sat and waited for some words to tumble forth of his mouth. While Lorna peered at him curiously over the rim of her raised cup trying to decipher by his flying hands if they should be alarmed, or excited. Finally, she set the cup down upon the table and spoke firmly.

“Robert.”

The boys eyes settled on her face; finally. 

“Is everything alright, or should we come running?”

His head bobbed up and down vigorously, and Lorna’s heart dropped to her stomach. “What has happened?” Her own hand covered her heart, while the other two suddenly stood to their feet, faces paled. “That is... who…?”

Robert shook his head, more wild gestures and took a deep breath, than a moment’s hesitation while the other three each held their own. His jaw drooped once more and finally a single word burst forth.   
“Dolphins!”

Their eyes all turned in wonder to each other and then it was a mad scramble to be the first one out of the door. Unceremoniously they all rushed to the main deck, Godfrey and Robert’s feet slipping across the wet surface and carrying them forward until they slammed into the barrier at the bow of the boat. Lorna and Pearle attempted a more dignified pursuit; at first gingerly picking their way forward. Catching James eye and easy smile where he stood alongside Robert, encouraged them to pick up their skirts and dash forward. Breathless they arrived and bent their heads beside the others, to only be further bereft of inhalation due to the wondrous sight. A pod of dolphins were riding the waves created by ship’s prow as it cut through the crystal blue waters. Their sleek bodies shining just below the surface. Every few seconds breaking the surface and blowing water into the air before diving beneath once more. 

“Why do they blow water like that Mr. Delaney?” Robert was utterly fascinated. 

“It’s how they breathe… see the small hole?” James waited for one to breach and then quickly pointed, “See – there! They blow old air out of the hole and take new air in before diving again.”

“How does water not go in the hole when they go back under the water?”

Mr. Cholmondeley had arrived and his voice came from behind, “Most amazing thing boy, the hole seals itself over as they dive underwater.”

Robert glanced back to see if they man was telling tales. His head only nodded and seeing James head also nodding, he accepted it as fact and turned back to watch the incredible display. Suddenly one dolphin leapt right out of the water and he and the ladies squealed with delight. Several more now joining the play as they propelled their sleek bodies atop the cresting waves. 

Lorna gasped, “But why do they do it, James?”

James only shrugged his shoulders, “No one really knows. I suspect because they can.”

Cholmondeley squeezed in beside her, “Although the theory is they are using the forward motion of the waves created by the vessel to propel themselves forward faster in the water.” He smiled down at Lorna’s upturned face. “Thus saving energy during long swims.” 

Lorna glanced at James who still shrugged and touching Robert on the shoulder, crooked a finger motioning him to follow. 

Turning her gaze back to the chemist, “Well it certainly makes sense. Still, it certainly seems like they rather enjoy it, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s a bit of both.”

The chemist inclined his head as though considering her explanation as the most likely, and they both glanced back once again, this time Lorna’s breath catching in her throat due to fright. “Oh my… James!”

James had crawled out along the bowsprit to lean out over the action and much to her apprehension brought Robert trialing along behind him. The look of absolute joy shining on his face undeniable, despite what was surely a dangerous undertaking. She prayed the boy’s grip on the rigging would hold. The jib and foresail were flapping noisily in the wind, testifying to the current speed of the ship and her hands gripped the sides while her eyes flicked back and forth between the leaping dolphins and the precarious positions of the two men she loved. For a brief moment it felt like her heart had left her body and was perched out on the limb above rushing waters itself. With a measure of relief she saw that Robert had reached closer to James who was showing the boy how to hook his feet into the forestays securely. One large hand grabbing a good portion of the boys shirt for added safety, as his eyes had caught the worried frown upon her face. A sigh of relief expelled and she met James smile – happy to witness this moment of bonding between them.   
She still didn’t know what Robert was to James, and it was doubtful she would ever inquire. Though she suspected James didn’t know the full truth either. Yet, what kind of Delaney he was exactly, it didn’t matter it seemed now – it was enough to accept the boy’s fate and future was undeniable tied to their own. Her own opinion and heart would be that he should have a better way of it than either she or James. That he would not stand in front of his own hearth one day and feel the coldness of his home. There would be love. And laughter. And if they were all very lucky, a little leap into adventure every now and then. The group watched the dolphins for another few minutes before returning to their now cooling tea. Glancing back at the man and boy where they still held secure, she could see James completely relaxed face while he was talking, and Robert hanging on every word uttered. James cast a wink before she turned away, leaving a little piece of her heart hanging out over the sea. 

~

Later, as the heat of the afternoon drove many to seek the lower decks, James swung open the cabin door to find Lorna dressed only in a flimsy chemise and fanning herself with a pamphlet. Beads of sweat glistening upon her brow and upper chest. His eyes raked over her entire length, noting the transparency of the fabric and lingering upon the chest area as she had opted to forgo her short stays in an effort to combat the humidity. No sooner had he entered the room, did the cloying heat slam into him and James pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner. Her head tilted slightly, mouth opening to say something, but before she could voice the reproach regarding his tossed clothing, he had crossed the space and wrapped his arms around her. Warm lips caressed the exposed skin upon her throat, knowing it always crumbled the possibility of any resistance. Sure enough her hands knotted in his hair and her body leaned in closer to his own. His kisses became harder, more urgent and one arm slid about her waist tight, while the other one reached to caress the soft skin at the nape of her neck. Stepping backwards while she is molded tightly against his strong length, until her bottom feels the edge of the small dining table. Easily he lifts her upon its scratched surface, and stands between the v of her legs. Urgent hands pushing the hem of her shift to her hips, mouth still fastened to the tender skin of her neck, her shoulders, across her collarbones; her fingers threading into his scalp and pulling on his head. He stroked his tongue upwards to nip an earlobe gently, his breath warm in her ear. Lorna turned her cheek towards his mouth, but his head dipped back down, hand tilting her neck sideways so he can suckle where the pulse beats strong and sure beneath the fair skin. A whimper rises in her throat – she knows James is making her wait. His hands have reached behind to mold her hips closer to his, kneading the soft flesh as he pressed his hardness between her parted legs. His mouth moves slowly and gently upwards until the brush of his lips caresses her own; giving her what she desperately craves. 

Their mouths locked together, Lorna hooked her fingers into the band of his trousers, long nails lightly scratching the sensitive pelvic area and James hips jerked against her bare thighs. His lips pushed harder upon her own, tongue sweeping inside like she’s the finest thing he’s ever tasted. Beyond the cabin windows the sky has darkened. Rain clouds rolling along the now gray horizon, but bound in this kiss neither takes notice. Rain drops begin hammering upon the panes, an appreciative audience of the passionate storm spiraling inside. James pulled her to the edge of the table rubbing against her bare nether regions, his trousers creating a rough friction against the velvet folds. The difference in feeling drawing a gasp and James head dropped to her breasts with a drawn out groan.

“Hell Madam, you do make me forget.”

He rubbed his beard back and forth along the curve of her breasts. Slender fingers lifted his head back up to her lips, stifling any further groans or protests. Pausing for a breath, her murmur came in husky tones, “Forget what James?”

He pulled back, met her gaze, “That Robert is on his way with refreshments.”

Her face fell, than an eyebrow lifted hopefully. “How long … how much on his way?”

James pressed a final kiss, “Not long enough my love.” He pulled her close and dropped his head upon her bare shoulder. “Not near long enough.”

No sooner did he utter the words, a knock came upon the door. Lorna quickly reached for a wrapper to cover her state of undress. James seeing her attired called to enter. Robert came through balancing a tray and still grinning ear to ear from the earlier excitement. 

“Did you like seeing the dolphins Ms. Lorna?!”

She smiled, the memory still vivid. “Indeed I did Robert. It was undoubtedly the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Do you think we should see them again?

The boy was nodding enthusiastically and just about to reply, when James took the tray from his hands and rather brusquely showed him to the door. Mumbling _yes yes that would be lovely good day._   
He turned back around to find Lorna with arms folded across her chest and a look of reproach now replacing the one of desire he had so carefully stoked. “James, he’s just excited about seeing something so lovely and exciting.”

James met her gaze in that way only he could. “Yes, me too.”  
He considered it a small victory a blush crept upon her cheeks. 

“Well can we not at least quench our thirst first?” She leaned over the tall pitcher holding something that smelled fruity and delicious. “What is this, it smells like fruit and….?” She raised questioning eyes.

“Rum. Specifically it’s a Bajan Rum Punch.” He walked over and stirred the contents before pouring them each a glass. Raising his cup to her own, he smiled broadly, “Courtesy of William’s family distillery in Barbados.”

She tentatively sipped the drink, and her eyes widened. “That is wonderfully sweet and delicious.” Another sip, larger this time as she sought to quench her thirst. “But what is it exactly?”

James canted his head slightly, eyes looking at the ceiling as he searched his memory. “One of Sour, Two of Sweet, Three of Strong, Four of Weak”

Finally he met her confused gaze. “If memory serves correctly, that is specifically one part lime juice, two parts sugar, three parts of fine Johnston Brand rum, and four parts of water. I’ll have to inquire if he added a dash of bitters, or nutmeg.

Lorna nodded and tipped the contents high once again. James reached out and stilled her hand. “Easy love, that’s strong rum. Don’t be fooled by the sweet taste.” He cast a cautious look of warning before taking his own sip. Seeing her narrowed eyes holding a hint of doubt, he chuckled. “Believe me or not madam. But I warn you - keep that pace and you’ll be on your back in no…”

A silence settled between them. Lorna raised the cup to her lips and emptied the contents, matching the same hard glint in his gaze while she then held it forth for a refill. James quickly swigged his own and reaching for the pitcher, refilled both cups to the brim. They clinked cups, eyes never leaving the others, until James glanced over her shoulder and spied the raindrop covered glass. 

“When did it start to rain?”

Lorna shrugged out of her wrapper one handed, holding the drink carefully and sipping as she rid herself of the garment. Striding towards him until they stood face to face, she wrapped an arm around his neck. 

“Well that is one thing I’ve noticed about life at sea James.” Her fingers trailed across his cheek and settled on the full lips. “You just never know when a storm will rise.”

While all was dark and unyielding beyond the cozy confines of the cabin, within unleashed a different kind of storm. Though it also rose as turbulent waves crashing against one another, amidst a symphony of furious heat and noise. The air thick with the taste of salt that lingered; carried by a gale both playful and of gathering strength. The gulls outside struggled within the gale, their bodies twisted gray and white among the stormy blues as they were swept tumbling along. Inside the two joined souls found mercy and grace beyond the tempest, their sweet union rising as a mountain out of the angry sea. Anchored in one another they rode out the force of nature until flushed and breathless they were tossed out the other side.

Later, as James sipped the last remnants of the punch and Lorna lay in sleepy repose upon their bed, he remembered the promise made to himself while on the island. Reaching across the table, he gathered his quill and blank pages. Leaning back, his eyes traveled down familiar lines he knew could easily be recreated from memory. The feel of her skin still fresh on his fingertips. An imprinting that would never leave him. Still, his eyes roamed freely devouring every detail; the way a curl fell upon a pale shoulder and caught the light; the soft shadow of eyelashes upon the curve of her cheek; and, most endearing - the line visible even while she slept that suggested her dreams were sweet. An easy smile stretched upon his own face and his eyes took on a shine no one would have believed the Devil Delaney could summon. He was never more aware that people often saw what they wanted to see, and he remembered vividly a courtroom fallen into silence, and the woman before him who had made it thus. He’d thought her beautiful since his eyes first fell on her. That wasn’t the surprise though. As he sketched the first line of her body, traced it with his finger, the truth inked its way into the emerging portrait - she was even more beautiful today. Even if he was not set to drawing her likeness, he knew without a doubt -- he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

His mind recalled easily how she had stood at the bow of the ship, the sun shining from behind and lighting her hair into a flaming halo shroud. She wore it down more often now and it pleased him to be able to touch a tendril whenever the urge struck. The happiness of her face rivaling the brightness of that glowing orb. With a critical eye, he leaned back to consider the piece. Adding a few final touches, he finally set quill upon the table. Pausing and resting his eyes for a few moments upon its subject; still lost to whatever dreams she may be chasing. Then drifting to the windows to watch droplets race one another across the glass, and the weight of duty calling closes in. Rising he retrieved his shirt and quickly dressed, his eyes still want to linger and hands still longing for just one more touch. A final glimpse at the finished piece and he picked up the quill once more. Scrawled an inscription across the bottom and signed it simply with his name. Crossing the room, he left the drawing on his empty pillow, and dropped another kiss upon her brow. Then quietly, once again, took his leave. 

Lorna woke with the closing of the door and sighing rolled over to press her face into the empty space that still held his scent. The corner of the paper tickled her cheek and she opened eyes to find her own image staring back. Her smile came softly, that he should be moved to capture her form in such vivid detail. She whispered his name into the quiet room, as her eyes misted over; but the line he had scrawled still easily read:

“In black ink my love may still shine bright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 65, Shakespeare
> 
> (recommend reading with #64 to full appreciate the piece)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter where James learns in times of trouble seek comfort from the helpers, and harmony in the beauty of the magic of the Earth. And more than madness - love is a kind of balance. 
> 
> Sorry for the length, but it really all flowed nicely to demonstrate this circle of life that beginning to unfold around our duo. :)

**When all the trees have been cut down,  
** when all the animals have been hunted,  
when all the waters are polluted,  
when all the air is unsafe to breathe,  
only then will you discover you cannot eat money. 

**Cree Prophecy**

~

Come morning, Lorna awoke alone in the bed, but she could hear the shouts and clomping of boots from the deck above. James own voice traveling down through the aged planks and settling about her like the disturbed dust that fell upon the bed. She had awaken briefly during the night when he had crawled in beside her to catch a few hours’ sleep, before going back once more for his next watch. His voice came loud and strong with a command and she felt a surge of pride to know that his authority was respected. Though months at sea, she still didn’t understand half the commands they shouted back and forth. Not that she was not fascinated by it all, but no one deemed it necessary to teach her as they did young Robert. The lines between a man’s duties and a woman’s still narrowly drawn. Though woman could be pierced by bullets just as easily as men, she wryly thought. If she and James had a daughter, she would make sure that the same opportunities were given to her, as the ones offered to Robert now.

Bolting upright in the bed, she momentarily paused. Her head slanted deep in thought and slightly stunned by the thought that had just run through her mind. _Was she really considering children with James?_ He had not made any promises. A fact that William had mercifully ceased reminding her about.

_You’re not exactly preventing children._

She was quite certain there was no Delaney babe on its way any time soon, having had her monthly when they returned from their island overnight. Although her entire system seemed to be erratic since they had sailed from England, she didn’t appear to have any of the tell-tale signs of being with child. It was somewhat of a surprise that a slight sense of disappointment followed the thought. Her hand covered the flatness of her stomach, wondering what it would be like to feel a babe move inside. To know that it was James son or daughter growing within her womb. That she could give him a chance to get right what his father had got so wrong. And it would be so; she would make sure of it. Her child would never lie in the cold dark with threadbare sheets that stretched too short, and wonder if they were loved. They would know beyond a shadow of a doubt. The Delaney legacy would be renewed from one of madness, to that of unconditional love. Sweeping a palm across dampened cheeks, she set to prepare herself for breakfast.

The shouts continued from above, but there was less running about now. The odd plunk upon the boards as lines were dropped. Another sound drifted into the cabin and she paused in her dressing, not quite sure to believe if what she heard was real. It sounded like singing? It slowly raised in volume and she hurried into her morning dress; her insatiable curiosity making her fingers fly through the buttons and ties. Soon she was dashing from the cabin, and following the lyrical sounds and the bright sunshine up the ladder to the main deck.

When she stepped into the bright sunlight flooding upon the main deck, she squinted a look around, trying to determine the source of the singing. Shielding her eyes and following the sounds, her head tilted upwards where she was astonished to find the crew up in the masts and rigging. It was enough to marvel at their balance, yet alone the beautiful harmony of their joined voices. High up in the main mast, she noticed a waving hand and smiling returned the wave to Robert, who stood in the crow’s nest with James. She pushed the thought that he had climbed the dizzying height out of her mind for now, since he was safe inside the look-out. The pair pointed long arms out over the bow of the boat and turning she could spy the island that lay ahead. They were coming in to port! She crossed towards the bow where Atticus stood with William, consulting their tidal maps and charts.

“How fares’ the tide gentlemen?” She greeted both with a wide smile. The excitement over seeing another port city lighting her gaze.

Both men, recalling James reminder regarding _his_ Mrs. Delaney, greeted her with a rather stiff bow and formal address. She eyed both of them with a side glance and slight curling of the lip, but seeing the direction of their gazes towards where James keen gaze also rested upon them, decided to let the matter of such formality go. For now.

“Should be in port in no time, m’am.” 

Atticus pointed a finger in the direction of the port, but it was still too far away to discern much with the naked eye. Her attention drifted back to the song, the men’s shadows seeming to dance on the sails.

“It sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? And a bit haunting. Why do they sing?”

“It’s a sea chanty m’am. Sailors have little ditties… tunes that go with certain tasks. This particular song, Haul on the Bowline, is an old favourite. Just an old sailing tradition that’s all.”

She leaned back on the railing, trying to decipher the words.

Haul on the bowline, our bully ship’s a-rollin’  
Haul on the bowline, the bowline Haul!  
Haul on the bowline, Kitty is my darlin’  
Haul on the bowline, Kitty lives in Liverpool,  
Haul on the bowline, the old man is a-growlin,  
Haul away your bowline, our ship she is a-rolling  
Haul on the bowline, so early in the mornin’  
Haul on the bowline, it’s a far cry to payday,  
Haul away your bowline, and belay, belay that bowline

Feeling the warmth of the sun and the melody wash over her, she remained a few minutes longer. The same tune continued, but she noted the words changed with each repetition. A few particular words caught her attention and she raised an eyebrow at the two men. William coughed delicately into his handkerchief when another risqué line floated out over the waters. Atticus chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah yeah m’am, sometimes the men improvise a little.”

Lorna laughed and nodded, “Yes, I see that.” She took a last look at the land that was fast approaching. “Well, I suppose if I want to eat before we set into port, I should go now. Good day gentleman.”

They both nodded and tipped their hats, noting the next verse one that certainly was not meant for a lady’s ears. Atticus leaned into William’s tall form, and shouted over the singing.

“See mate, that’s why we don’t have women folk on ships. Ya can’t bloody well sing properly!

~

Within the next hour, the ship saw a flurry of activity as it sailed into the port of Falmouth, Jamaica; the busiest port in the Caribbean Sea and West Indies. James leaned against the railing with Robert and Lorna to give a brief history of the area. Falmouth success was largely due to the fact it was the biggest exporter of sugar, rum, molasses and coffee back to England. As it was situated along the most popular trade routes, it was in an ideal location for similar trade with other merchant vessels either coming from cross Atlantic journeys, or the Southern States. From where they stood, Lorna could see that the town was mostly Georgian architecture mixed with colonial. In the immediate port vicinity one could see many warehouses, as well as several open air markets. Her curiosity positively bubbled within and James chuckled, her excitement a contagious thing. He leaned against her shoulder, his mouth grazing just beside her ear.

“Perhaps another overnight adventure, hhmm?”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, “What did you have in mind sir?”

His hand rested on the small of her back as he nuzzled closer into her neck, but then suddenly turned to look back over his shoulder. Lorna followed his gaze to find Robert’s eyes on them, a wide smile on his young face. James cleared his throat and addressed the boy.

“Why don’t you go make yourself presentable? That is if you care to join us for a trip into the town?”

Robert didn’t need to be asked twice and took off at a run across the deck. James turned back to Lorna and drew her closer into his arms so that he could whisper his intentions in her ear. She gasped and pulled back, searching his gaze.

“Skinny dipping?!!” He placed his finger over her lips and laughing told her to _ssshhhh, madam or you betray us._ It was impossible to tell if was serious or teasing. “Are you serious.. or quite mad? I can’t tell honestly.” She paused briefly, clearly considering the proposal. “But where James? This port does not appear to have the quiet solitude of the other island. At all.”

His eyes held her own and there was definitely a gleam within. “I assure you I am most serious love. We will be swimming, but clothing is entirely optional.” His lips brushed gently across her cheek, “But if I may have an opinion on the matter…”

Leaning against his strong chest, she whispered in his ear, “If prying eyes were not a concern, I would leave the entire matter up to you James.” Her lips pressed against the warm flesh of his neck, and she felt his deep inhale.

“That I cannot assure you of with any certainty, so just prepare yourself to get very wet madam.” He winked and she could see a bit of a devil in him after all. “Trust me love… it will be very … illuminating. For now, go prepare yourself also, as I would at least like the honour of escorting you into town myself this time?”

She nodded and turned to make her leave, then felt his gentle grip on her arm. “The boy will need some new clothes, if you feel up to the task of seeing to the necessary items?”

“Of course. I think that’s a wonderful idea James. I expect you’ll have business to attend to also – we can do it while you’re thus occupied?” 

Plans agreed, she stepped back and placed a kiss upon his bristled cheek. Then rushed across the deck to make herself ready for the day.

The port town somehow managed to find a balance between lazy and lively, but mostly it was just lovely to be on firm ground again. Both Lorna and Robert were almost dizzy from trying to take in everything all at once. The boys’ wardrobe had been suitably updated, and though James had instructed Lorna to also purchase any necessary items she may require, she opted for only one new short stay, given that one still bore the stubborn blood stains from her injury. She preferred to wait until they reached New Orleans, thinking the city more likely to be acquainted with what the current fashions were. Although in truth, the idea of stiff gowns and stays didn’t much appeal to her anymore. She feared she might be adopting James barely dressed wardrobe preference a little too much to heart. That and it was so damn hot all the time. The humidity from the day causing her gown to stick to her in the most unseemly places. Their shopping completed, the pair were joined by Pearle and Godfrey and stopped for tea at a delightful café that was located on the water. James was still busy with both Atticus and William and no doubt looking into what might be useful for trade. Robert’s voice broke the pleasant tea conversation.

“Why are those men in chains Mrs. Delaney?”

Lorna followed his gaze to where a line of black men were marched from the docks into the town, all bound by chains. Her heart clenched and tears sprang to her eyes; immediately sorry that the young boy should witness such a horrible act of inhumanity.

“Fucking barbarians!” Godfrey spat from his side of the table.

“Godfrey, please.” Lorna shot a warning look towards him and then a slight nod towards Robert.

“It’s okay Ms. Lorna, Atticus says it all the time.”

“Yes, I expect a sailor does Robert, but that doesn’t mean we all have to say it, right?” The boy nodded with a yes m’am. “To answer your question, they are in chains because they are slaves Robert. Brought here against their will to work the plantations.”

“Slaves means they don’t get wages and have to obey the master, right m’am?” Lorna nodded, and she didn’t miss his mumbled _just like the farm I reckon_ under his breath.

The group suddenly exchanged glances as the bound men were lead past, most of them looking beaten and half starved; stumbling along the dusty road. They looked down at their finely set table of tea, scones, the sugar in the beautiful china dish… all of it possible on the broken backs of such men. They lost their taste for tea quite suddenly. It was with silent mutual agreement they all rose to take their leave. Godfrey depositing several bank notes upon the table. One further thought nagged Lorna’s mind as they returned to the open markets instead – better to give their money to the locals who likely struggled daily to seek out a living among the rich plantation owners — and her mind silently called out to him; _James, what must this awful place be doing to you?_

~

From where he stood inspecting crates of various supplies, James saw the overwhelming evidence of the slave industry everywhere his eye touched. Throwing a handful of sugar down in disgust as the memories begin flooding back; threatening to drown him in guilt and shame. The sound of a hammer pounding upon thick spikes driving into his skull until he can no longer see or think straight. Stumbling away from the group he strode outside to catch his breath; hopefully to clear the vision that tormented him. Atticus and William watching with curious eyes. 

“James?! Do we know what we want?”

Atticus only received a waving of a hand in reply, as James strode away in the direction of the waterfront. Any calls falling on deaf ears. He can’t hear anything over the singing of the dead. Their voices and fingers pulling him down to the dark depths. Why he thought justice could silence them, when half the world still held their chains in one tight fist and a wad of bank notes in the other. He was fighting a fight he couldn’t win. Reaching the edge of the shore, he collapsed down onto the sand, his aching head in his hands and let the ghosts come.

When the group reached the merchant docks near the ship, seeing James was not with the two men, Lorna suddenly felt a fear in the pit of her stomach. She cast a worried glance to Atticus.

“Where?”

He pointed down the docks towards the shoreline, and she could just barely make out the dark figure hunched over in the sand. Godfrey came to place an arm around her shoulder, and she felt Robert’s small hand entwine with her own.

“You should go to him… he will need you.” 

She didn’t know why, but her instincts regarding him had never failed her yet. Turning to Godfrey, she took his hand, “No, I think it’s you he will need on this matter Godders. Please, will you go?”

“Of course I will.” 

They watched him walk down the sand until he took a seat beside James. Lorna took it as a good sign that he had not been met with temper, or entirely dismissed. For several minutes they appeared in deep conversation. At one point Godfrey laying an arm about his back. Lorna could sense James stiffening at the gesture, and although he did not reciprocate, he did not reject either. As the day was fast ending, William escorted Pearle and Robert back to the boat, while Atticus and Lorna remained behind. The sun had already set in the sky when finally Godfrey came walking back upon the sandy beach alone. He stopped before them and Lorna could tell from the redness of his eyes that he had been crying. She pulled him in for an embrace, a _thank you_ choked over her own tears.

“He asks for you my dear, and we are to return. With nothing he said.”

Atticus raised a brow, but Godfrey held firm. “He was very firm about it Atticus. We take nothing from here.”

Atticus nodded and then they said farewell to Lorna, but remained watching her own progress across the now darkened beach until she reached James. Saw how she sat behind him with her legs stretched out along his longer ones and her arms folded about him. Even from this distance they could tell how he leaned back against her. As always Atticus oddly found the right words.

“Luckiest son of a bitch I know, I swear it. Think he knows it?”

Godfrey watched the pair seated upon the shore. How they held one another through the pain and hopelessness of the moment. Turning back to Atticus as they began the walk back to the ship.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly his problem. He does know it. The real question is can he accept it?”

Atticus stopped and faced him. “Don’t matter none does it though?” Godfrey gave him a confused look. “Yeah, cause see that is the kind of woman who doesn’t give up. Loyal to the core that one.” He slapped Godfrey on the shoulder. “He can fall apart all he wants, sit by a dozen shorelines …. but she’ll never give up on him. James can run away from a lot of things, but not that.” 

Godfrey walked behind him several yards as they made their way back to the ship, wondering how a tattooed sailor and probably even a cold killer ever got so wise about matters of the heart. This brave new world that had such men indeed.

~

The lazy waves rolled ever closer to their feet as they sat huddled close to one another. The gulls still flying their arcs high above in the night sky, while the ocean breeze cooled the heat of the day from their skins. They sat silently as they watched every colour race against the sky and though the sight was breathtaking in its serene beauty, she felt the tension still coiled within him. The wonders of Mother Nature lost on him this night, while she basked in the glory spread all around them – and waited him out. Knowing he is lost to his own torrid thoughts, she simply gave him her presence and hoped it would be enough. She noted his hand squeezed her own every now and then and felt reassured that at least a part of him was with her. A different kind of intimacy shared than their previous ones spent on sandy shores, but still cementing their bond ever deeper. Suddenly he broke their silence with a single word.

“Chichester.”

She leaned around his shoulder, trying to force his gaze to her own.

“Justice.” Followed by a grunt.

_What kind of rational man believes in Justice?_

“Chichester? Is that who you spoke about with Godfrey?”

A grunt. His head bobbed loosely about his shoulders.

“You did get justice though James?”

“Yes, so Godders has told me.” His head turned back and her heart clenched to see his red rimmed eyes. “But it’s a little harder to see when a parade of flesh is marched before me, while I calculate the return on a crate of sugar that only exists by their bound hands, hhhmm?”

He felt hot tears fall upon his shoulder, and turned about in her arms, finding her own face pained and pale.

“I know. We left the tea room. They marched right past, like they were nothing … and I fear I don’t have the stomach to find joy when others so close at hand suffer.” 

His eyes flickered in her direction and he leaned his forehead against her own. Their hands squeezed tight together. James eyes squeezed closed trying to block the images assaulting his brain. Her voice came soft, but he could hear the iron willed determination within.

“We will do better. Already today, we made changes James. We changed the outcome – even if it’s small. And we can do bigger in Nootka.”

He almost broke down to hear her voice something so close to his own heart. _He was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world._ He didn’t trust his own voice to speak yet, but his mind echoed her words: yes, they would do better. Away from the greed and vanity that allowed the false and the wicked willed to prosper. Back to the natural and the wilds. He never felt more assured that they could make it possible. With her, it seemed anything was possible. He pulled her into a tight embrace, leaving the words for another time.

“Will we stay here long?”

“We will sail on the morrow. First light.” 

She sighed deeply against him.

“But first, I owe you a swim my love.”

She pulled back to look at him – had he gone completely mad? But she saw his smile was genuine and the light in his eyes shone. She knew he was up to something, and readily took his hand to follow.

~

She was glowing. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Every inch of skin. The curling strands of her hair. Each water droplet that he watched roll off her arms, legs, even her toes as she raised a limb above the water, glowed brightly as she floated upon the surface. Even the one that dangled from the tip of her nose and then dropped back to the surface in a bright jolt of blue. Her whole body lit around and within and James stared completely mesmerized. Her own eyes drank every inch of him while he paddled about her in a slow circle. A tidal pool of electric blue that circled about them. His torso glowing and the bands stood out in dark contrast to the glistening waters swirling about his chest. Magnificent was the only word that she could call to mind. He dotted a kiss on her shoulder as he passed by, and she couldn’t believe he was hers. That she could reach out and touch that firm, muscled expanse if she wanted. His demeanor seemed to have softened somewhat since their arrival at the Glistening Waters. Indeed how anyone could remain in a foul state of mind when confronted with the luminous lagoon, she couldn’t fathom. He explained they were at the junction where the Martha Brae River met the Caribbean Sea and that something in the fresh and salt waters when they combined – made the water glow a brilliant shade of blue. Although it only glowed when you moved, otherwise it lay still and dark as any other lake. Even when she floated as still as possible, she could still see flashes of blue beneath the surface. When James told her it was likely a fish, she didn’t look quite as thrilled. Given how many of those flashes were right beneath her – and the size of several. The miracle of the lake could only be seen at night and they were joined by a few others who had come to see the rare occurrence. 

Suddenly, her feet touched down into the slimy mud and she squealed in repugnance. James laughed at her wet nose that had turned blue as soon as it wrinkled in distaste. Then she got her wish as he swam up from behind and wrapped her tight against his chest, pulling her through the water with him. The blue swirling all around them until they appeared a royal sea god and his goddess embarking on a midnight tryst under the pale moon. His mouth sought hers and if anyone would have been spying, their kiss would have been seen to glow brightly above the calm surface. He released her and they rolled to float on their backs to watch the starry sky, but only a few were visible this cloudy night. As they floated along, rain drops began to fall upon their upturned faces. Rolling upright, they both gasped in surprise to see the drops falling on the surface in an amazing light show water dance. The entire lake began to glow as the rain fall harder. So beautiful they were reluctant to leave, though the air had taken a chill with the arrival of the rain. The peal of thunder soon had them swimming back to the boat that had brought them to the middle of the lake. 

James hauled himself over the side first, then balanced the vessel with one hand, while helping her over the side with the other. They collapsed breathless and laughing on the bottom of the boat. The rain was coming down in hard pelts and James quickly moved to start rowing to shore. She dragged her now chilled body onto the other seat, when a low whistle snapped her head up to look at James. His eyes were wide and raking over her wet body, where the gown clung to every curve and tempting part.

“Madam, we will definitely have to sneak you onto my ship unseen.”

~

The fire chased the chill from their bodies, but even the magic of the lagoon isn’t enough to chase away the burdens of his past. Regret and the uncertain future still weighing heavily upon him as they settle in for the night. She had quietly noted the never empty glass since his return, and held her tongue. James sensed her disquiet and an unfamiliar tension filled their cabin, but still he poured more brandy into his glass, hoping to pass into oblivion and avoid dreams and visions. Thinking an unfettered sleep the wiser option, Lorna gently took the glass and holding his head in her hands tried to reach through his dulled senses.

“It won’t chase away bad memories James. The silence will be temporary and they will holler the louder when you awake.” 

A disgruntled shrug of his shoulders and an actual grunt followed, and he sank down upon the bed, then rolled over to his side. After a few minutes of silence, she joined him, but it’s the first time James remained turned away from her. His head pressed against the cool wood along the back wall of the cabin. But he accepts her warm body that molds around his own. Her quiet presence and acceptance are just what he needs to face this night. He is not capable of giving anything in return. She draped one arm over his chest and he held the hand tight – falling into a troubled sleep. In the middle of the night he awoke with a start, sure he heard voices in the room and tossed about in the bed as the night mare held him in a violent grip. Unaware the voice is his own, he bolted upright; finding an empty space beside him and a fear settled over him, He has pushed her away, or she has fled. He doesn’t know which is worse and called for her in the darkened cabin. 

“Here James.” Finally he saw a lone candle glowing in the corner where his trunk resides. Sounds of her rummaging through its contents reached through the voices in his head. When she returned to the edge of the bed, her hands were not empty.

“Will these help?” Her eyes were full of pain and it cut him to the quick that it’s for him. Mind briefly clearing, he inspected the items; paints, shell, feathers, herbs… and his heart squeezed in his chest that she would remember. 

“I wasn’t sure what exactly, so I think I brought it all.” Her smile is hesitant, and hopeful and he knows he will never stop loving her if only based on this one act alone. “Is this what you need James?”

He nodded, eyes misted over and rose from the bed. Taking the necessary items from her hands, but pointed to the paints, “We won’t need those this time.”

Her eyes raise, “We?”

A finger reached out and tucked a stray strand behind her ear, then moved to tilt her chin up to meet his kiss. “Yes, since with me you are also condemned to this periodic hell, tonight you shall learn how to cleanse yourself from it too, hhmm?”

She nodded and took his hand.

“First, we will need a small fire. Smoke is very important in the ritual.” 

James walked to the pot stove in the corner and stoked the dying fire, motioning to Lorna to sit down. When she sat facing the fire, he turned her about by the shoulders saying, “We will face East, the direction of Beginning, and Birth.” 

Holding up the items she had gathered, he explained how each represented the Natural Elements, as Native People believed the Great Spirit was in all of Nature; all of Creation. He pointed to the fire.

“We have the Fire.” Lorna nodded her understanding.

“Shell, representing Water. We will burn the medicine in the shell.” 

She took the shell and examined its reflective surface. “It’s beautiful.” Then set it on the floor, and reached for the next item he held.

“Eagle Feather, representing Air. Used to wash the smoke over you.”

Her brow raised, “Wash?”

“Yes, the ritual is a cleansing ceremony. Purification from negative thoughts, emotions…” he paused and looked away. “Visions.”

Turning back, he lifted her arm and ran his fingers down the length. “We are not just physical matter.” He pressed a finger to the pulse at her wrist. “There is an Energy flowing within us.” He lifted the bundle of dried herbs he held. “Also living in plants… this sage is one of the sacred medicines, representing Earth.” 

She lifted the dried bundle to her nose and inhaled the scent, then raised her eyes finding him watching her, a slight hesitant expression on his face. She spoke slowly, ensuring she understood the process. “So we burn the sage .. the medicine… and then the smoke released purifies the air. Us. Like a smoke bath?”

He smiled and nodded, relieved that she not only followed the process, but accepted the idea. “Yes. The negative energy rises with the smoke and is lifted away. We should have another herb to burn and offer as thanks… I don’t even have any tobacco though.”

“I have dried lavender!” She stood up and rushed over to where she kept her personal items, then rushed back and handed the dried leaves to James. “Will it do?”

“Lorna, why do you have Lavender in your personal affects?”

She stood before him, lips compressed as a fine blush crept up her cheeks. James head slanted to the side as he waited for some kind of explanation, but she just stood, her eyes widening and brows raising – willing him to get it on his own. Suddenly his own brows shot up.

“It’s a women thing isn’t it?”

She silently nodded. 

He chuckled, and grabbed her hand, “I should think us past feeling any shyness or embarrassment about your feminine routine love. It helps during your monthly?”

Again she nodded. 

“Which means you are having…” He left the question hanging and she nodded a third time, before taking a deep breath.

“It’s very calming. Soothing to any pains.”

He nodded and smiled. Also silently marveled that the one herb she would happen to offer, is the one associated with peacefulness and loving energy. She’d never cease to amaze him if they lived a dozen lifetimes.

“Well for our purposes it’s actually a perfect complement to the sage.”

They sat down together, facing East, and James gathered the items between them. Using an ember of coal from the fire, lit the sage and the lavender in the shell. The smoke began to rise around them and James picked up the feather, then paused and stared into her eyes. 

“I’ve never done this with a women before.” His eyes brimmed at the edges and she reached for his hand. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The balance of masculine and feminine energy is very important to Native culture. And ceremonies. Crucial in fact. This… us, together, already is bringing a healing balance. Just because you are here with me.”

Her own eyes misted over as he continued. “This a very sacred ceremony, we do not conduct the process lightly but with great respect and honour to the tradition, do you understand?”

Lorna nodded and satisfied James held his hands over the smoke and then reached for her own and passed them through; as though they were washing their hands. Picking up the feather, he whispered “underside” then proceeded to use it to move the smoke over his eyes, ears and mouth. Then passed the feather through the smoke once again – his gaze caught her own and another whispered instruction “never blow the smoke or fire.”

His eyes closed and he moved the smoke over his head and down his back, lips mumbling a prayer she could not hear. Then up his left arm and down the right, up to his heart, and finally the feather swept the smoke down his legs. Pausing briefly, lips still forming unintelligible words, then bringing the smoke back up to his heart four times. His eyes opened and found her sitting calmly and silently staring into the smoke rising in twirls. He reached over and pressed his fingertips upon the lids and they fluttered closed. His finger then pressed upon her lips and she nodded. 

“Empty your thoughts if you can, clear your mind and focus on bringing positive thinking, feeling and actions. You should finish by expressing gratitude for any blessings.” 

He repeated the entire process while she sat quietly, eyes closed and body slightly swaying. When he was finished bathing her in the sacred smoke, he sat a few minutes seeking his own guidance and clarity. Lorna’s eyes opened when she heard James movements as he tidied up the items from the ceremony. Seeing him place the burned herbs and ashes from the shell into a glass jar, she inquired why they could not be put into the fire.

“We will save them until we can return them to Mother Earth… when we land again.” She nodded and smiled up at him as he rose. “You can sit awhile if you like, but we are finished for this night.” He leaned down and kissed her brow and then crossed straight to the bed and crawled to the far side once again.

Lorna waited a few minutes, sensing he needed time to be alone with his thoughts. Drinking a glass of water she studied his broad back over the rim of the glass. Finally she came over to stand beside the bed, knowing he had not fallen asleep by his breathing pattern.

“James, I can go to Robert’s room if you need to be alone? I understand…”

His head had turned and the words died in her throat as he calmly searched her gaze. “Just if you need time…. “ Her hands twisted and clenched in the folds of her shift. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you need James.”

Not willing to send her away, he reached a hand towards her and she clasped it with a great exhale. “I need _you_ … stay.” 

He pulled her down upon the bed and their clasped hands to hold in front against his chest. She snuggled into the curve of his back; head resting close to his own on the pillow. She felt his own long exhale, the tension slowing leaking from his body as his breathing became steady. Her own body refusing to surrender to sleep until she knew he rested easy. Eyelids growing heavy as she listened to the rain still pattering upon the windows and the distant sound of thunder. She was just about to fall into dreams, when he suddenly flipped over on his side and gathered her closer, one hand smoothing the hair at her temple. Her throat constricted to feel the wet tears on his cheeks when he brushed a kiss upon her brow. 

She raised up and cupped his face in her hands; kissed his forehead, his damp eyes, and a lingering brush upon his lips. His hands reached into her hair and held her fast, lengthening the kiss before he broke and his voice was husky with emotion. “You know how much I love you?”

She nodded and pressed her forehead to his before laying upon her back and pulling him to rest upon her breast. Her fingers caressing through his hair and down the nape of his neck. “I love you too.” The arm draped across her middle squeezed tight. “Sleep James.” And within moments he fell still and silent; soft snoring mingling with the thunder that rumbled beyond. Drifting into slumber with the warmth and weight of him surrounding her, and the sweet scent of the medicine smoke lingering in the corners, she felt a renewed sense of wellness within them both. This night they had bathed in glowing waters and sacred smoke, and she’d never felt more in tune with the magic earth that surrounded them. _Balance_ he had said. **She** brought balance. She smiled softly, doubting anyone else would ever apply that notion to the actress with the flaming hair and a dress to match. 

Only he would see what lay beneath.

When dawns’ early light begin to creep upon the gray horizon, the rain still falling in a steady beat, they were already sailing away from the Port of Falmouth. Most of the crew and passengers standing on the deck watching the small town grow smaller; their backs to the wide expanse of blue stretching further ahead.

The two lovers lay still entwined: hands clasped and hearts beating against the other.

They were not looking back.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter showing the relationships that are developing among the crew of the The Good Hope as it sails towards the Gulf of Mexico -- and the blockade. Over tea with Lorna, Pearle finds a new resolve. While James finds a use for William --- who has some explaining to do.

Much to her delight Lorna was awoken by the feel of a bristled jaw pressed into the curve of her neck. His warm lips already trailing along the smooth skin before her eyes had opened. Her arms ran down the length of his back, dragging his shirt up with them so she could feel his bare skin. He murmured into the hollow of her throat.

“Apologies for neglecting you yesterday my love.”

“You didn’t neglect me James. I think other matters were more pressing.”

He pressed his pelvis against her thigh and she felt the growing hardness.  
“Aye but I did, and now it might be too late.”

Her head tilted towards him, “Too late?”

His smile and eyes held a glint of wickedness and she feared she might not want to know the answer. Rubbing himself along her bare flesh and fingers already pulling the gown up her thighs, it was clear James was not of mind to appease her hesitation.  
“Mmmmm, local legend says that when a man bathes in the glistening waters, it will lengthen his wood temporarily.” Her eyes widened and she bit back a laugh. He nodded his head, looking most serious as he whispered against her mouth. “As much as four inches sometimes madam.”

She almost choked. “Four inches! Heavens.” 

Holding his gaze, trying to discern the extent of his levity regarding the strange folklore, then suddenly her head ducked beneath the blanket. James sucked air through his teeth and groaned loudly when he felt her slender fingers handling his semi aroused manhood. Lightly tracing from his ball sack to the tip several times until he was fully aroused. Desire coiled throughout his body and the fire ignited in his gut so that his hands gripped her tightly about the shoulders. Which he then noticed were slightly shaking. Her hands were moving all over his cock in a slow rhythmic gliding motion, with pauses in between, but she made no sound. While he made more than few sounds; loudly. So exquisite, he was almost at the edge until he definitely felt her body trembling slightly. 

“Lorna… are you laughing?”

The loud exhalation beneath the covers gave her away and then her whole body convulsed into laughter. His manhood shrunk slightly in response and he pulled the covers back to find tears running down her cheeks from the mirth. 

“Ah, love… not want any man wants to hear when his lady is so close to the mighty sword. Even if it didn’t’ grow another four inches.”

Her hand covered her mouth, though a gasp still escaped, but she shook her head in apology. “Oh James, I’m sorry, truly.” Her eyes sought his own and he made to move from the bed, but she stayed him with a hand and lifted the covers. One hand reached down and gently grasped his only slightly stiff cock and it miffed him slightly that it still jumped at her touch. 

And a bright flash of blue sparked beneath the sheets.

“Fuck… what?” 

She dissolved into laughter once more, collapsing on the bed beside him. 

“It’s not that funny.”

He could barely discern her words but it sounded like _oh god, James yes it is._

He looked back to his slightly glimmering erection, and then to her face, struggling to look back at him with a measure of composure. He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, then quickly grabbed her and pinned her beneath him. Her breath caught as his now hard and throbbing shaft poked at her entry. He rubbed the smooth, velvet tip along her silky folds, pulling the blanket over both their heads.

“Well love, let’s make you glow, hhhmm?”

~

Walking the passageway towards the main deck, James encountered Pearle on her way to make use of their water closet. The pale blonde paused momentarily and lowered her gaze, suddenly unsure as to whether to proceed. When it was clear that James had paused in the passage, she lifted eyes expecting to find that brooding stare that chilled her blood. Instead James stood to the side, leaning against the wall waiting for her to pass, a half smile on his face.  
“After you my lady.”

Eyes widened in response to his gentility; manners she was not accustomed to having directed at a woman such as herself. Glancing over his features, she decided he was not half as frightening when not fixing you with that hard glare. Minus the black hat pulled low, she could see the lift of his brows and his eyes appeared less dark – a light blue that almost held a hint of humour. Though the scar across the one eye still lent him a dangerous aura. 

“Begging yer pardon Sir, Mr. Delaney, I was just fixing to use the facilities.”

He nodded his head. “Yes, Lorna mentioned it. Please…” his hand made a sweeping gesture towards the room at the end of the passage, “whenever you have need.”

Her head nodded and she bobbed a slight curtsy before picked up her skirts to move past him. A shy smile to show her gratitude.

“And Pearle?”

She paused and noticed he now held more of a pained grimace upon his countenance.

“James.” Her brow knitted together. “As opposed to sir and Mr. Delaney, curtsies and all that other shit.”

Her laughter burst loud and unladylike and she immediately decided she liked James Delaney quite a bit after all. If this was the man Lorna spent most of her time within the cabin, she could see why the actress had fallen so hard. She nodded and continued on her way, while James continued toward the main deck. 

~

He was greeted by raindrops; eyes lifting to check the sky for a prediction as to the duration and magnitude of this latest storm. Face upturned he sucked in the salty air and relished the drops of misty sea that the bounce of the boat upon the waves sprayed upon the deck. It’s coolness an invigorating chill after the humidity of the island. A glance to the helm revealed Robert at the ships wheel with French Bill, his young face also lifted into the cold caress of the ocean breeze. Excitement etched in every line as the ship flew over the water, the bow crashing into the white crested waves. James watched as Bill instructed the young boy regarding handling the wheel in such weather and how to steer a course through the waves. The boy’s eyes briefly caught James and when a nod of encouragement was received, his face split into a wide grin and then dissolved into a mask of concentration directed just beyond the bow of the boat. Seeing the helm in good hands, James crossed to the quarterdeck where Atticus was consulting maps and his compass.

A glance over starboard revealed a long strip of land passing and he knew from its flatness mixed with intermittent rolling plains, as well as the sheer size, it was the Spanish colonized island of Cuba. The largest in the Caribbean Sea. He also knew if he put his ship to port, it would yield abundant stores of sugar, coffee, and rum; once again on the backs of slaves brought from Africa in droves. Due to the successful Haitian Revolution years prior that had seen self-liberated slaves succeed against French Colonial rule in Saint-Domingue and establish a state that was both free from slavery, and now ruled by non-whites and former captives; Cuba had seen an opportunity to become the world’s new supplier of sugar in transforming to a slave society. Eyes narrowed as the beautiful landscape swept past, James pondered how such a paradise could hold a life of hell for so many. Atticus voice cut into his thoughts.

“Passed Great Cayman not too long ago. She’s making good time today.”

James grunted, squinted up at the billowing sails, and then pointed towards the map in his hands. “Think we will make the Yucatan Channel by nightfall?”

Atticus pursed his lips, shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to say, if wind holds steady as she is, might. Might not. Either way, in darkness we still have to worry about the danger of …. ”  
“Coral reefs.” James finished his thought. 

Atticus nodded. “Might want to anchor someplace for the night, start out first light through the Channel and safely navigate the banks.”

James nodded and grunted, and the two men huddled from the light mist that continued to fall, pondering over their maps and charts intent on plotting the quickest, and safest route. 

~

“Do you think that I could be a real lady when we get to America?”

Lorna snorted into her teacup and reached across the table to cover the young girls’ hand. “I think you’re a lady just as you are Pearle.” Rolling her eyes at the shadowed ceiling, she then leaned forward across the small table, “Believe me dear, a great deal of ladies that look like ladies – are not ladies at all.”

Pearle sighed. “It were real nice… when he called me my lady like that. And smiled.” 

At seeing Lorna’s raised brow and slight smile, she quickly recovered. “Oh Mrs. Delaney, I didn’t mean to suggest he meant anything improper. Not at all. Just that… he were, ya know… polite to me.”

Lorna nodded her head. “I understand, trust me there is no offence taken. And I am rather glad others are starting to look at James as less a monster.”

Pearle dropped her gaze briefly, biting her lip in thought, a glance upward to meet Lorna’s gaze and a hesitant breath taken. She couldn’t seem to form the words she wanted to say.  
“Pearle? You can ask something if you like. We’re just two ladies having their tea…”

“What’s he like?” The words blurted out before she could halt them.

Lorna paused, unsure as to the nature of response she should give. Or even exactly what the young girl implied, as her questioning gaze and raised brows indicated she was not still speaking about manners.

Lorna took a deep breath, “You mean… what kind of men is he when we are together? Behind closed doors?”

Pearle nodded.

“Well like I said, he’s no monster Pearle. He treats me well. He’s not mean, or brash…. a bit grumpy, but then he’s always like that to everyone. But… he listens to me. I value his opinion, usually. And I believe he does mine also by the way he talks to me. We share more than just a bed. Conversation. Feeling. Ideas. The future.”

Pearle sat quietly taking it all in, but her face registered that she was still waiting for something else. Her gaze dropped and her voice came almost a whisper.  
“He doesn’t hurt you? Ya know… when…”

Suddenly understanding her meaning, Lorna gasped and sat back in her chair, a blush infusing her cheeks. 

“I’m sorry my lady, I didn’t mean… it’s not appropriate, never mind.,.”

Lorna held up a hand to stop her, sensing this was something of great importance and of a lasting impact on the young girl. “No Pearle, I’m fine. An important topic I think that we ladies perhaps don’t talk about with one another enough, yes?”

Pearle nodded quietly, her hands clenched tight upon the table surface. Once again Lorna reached across to take one in her own.  
“No Pearle, he doesn’t hurt me. Not out of bed, or in bed. As it should be.” She shifted slightly, feeling the necessity of complete honesty. “I mean, you know Pearle that men and their passion, sometimes they are not… well, entirely gentle, but still never to the point of actually inflicting pain out of ill intent, do you understand what I mean?”

Pearle’s head bobbed upon thin shoulders. “Sure I do. It’s ‘cause he loves you he does. Anyone can see it ma’am.”

“Please, call me Lorna… and Pearle, whether a man loves you or not, he still has no right to hurt you. Anywhere.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Exceptin they pay for it Mrs… Lorna. They give their money and we got no say.” Her eyes began to brim at the corners and Lorna squeezed her hand tight, brushing her own cheeks.

“Then when we get to America, we’ll just have to find you a better way to earn your coin Pearle.”

“I don’t know nothing… I can’t do anything else.”

Lorna sat up in her chair, her voice firm. “Pearle. Is it not you that has been doing most of the mending of yours, mine and Godfrey’s clothing these past weeks? And a beautiful job you’ve done making our meagre wardrobe endure this harsh voyage. Of course you can do something.”

“Yeah I suppose. But that’s not something grand…. Like being on stage! Having hundreds cheer and adore you. And I know ya never whored yerself. Helga used to be quite bitter ‘bout that.”  
“Pearle, I would not have taken to the stage if I were not passionate about it. It was never really a matter concerning money. And quite frankly it does not earn much coin. You would require a patron to truly make a go of it.” 

The girl digested all she had said and sat quietly, the odd tear still slipping down a pale cheek. 

“Pearle, if you don’t want to be a prostitute anymore… only you can make that happen. But you’ve got to be strong and brave enough to make it so.” She pulled the girls arms across the table, forcing her gaze to her own. “You do it for you Pearle – no one else. You do it because you deserve to have the life you want.”

She felt the young girl’s grip on her arms tighten, the lines of her face slowly shifting from resignation to resolve. Suddenly it seemed that there was a well of much deeper fortitude than her seemingly flighty air had indicated. She smiled her encouragement, hoping it would lend even more confidence to the girl. She smiled back, eyes focus and bright. 

“Maybe I’ll even meet a fine man myself.”

Lorna winked back. “Maybe. Anything is possible Pearle. Don’t forget it.”

A sly look slide across her features as she leaned forward. “French Bill is a fine man.”  
Lorna leaned forward, interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

The ladies continued their discussion, topics ranging from the rougher aspects regarding most men they had each encountered, to clothing patterns they longed to pour over in the near future, and what each of them dreamed of finding in America, and eventually winding back to the finer points of their respective men. Both dissolving into high pitched giggles when Lorna told her about the tattoo James wanted to place upon her…and where. Their conversation interrupted by a knock upon the door. Godfrey’s head poking in before a call to admittance was given.

“Good afternoon ladies.”

At their raised brows, his face registered a small pout. “Ladies, there is far too much laughter drifting up through these wood planks for you two to be discussing proper topics.” The women exchanged glances and both burst out laughing. “I feel left out…. And I brought wine.” He pulled a large bottle of wine from behind his back.

Two sets of hands waved him over to join them at the table, where he immediately poured three large glasses of wine. Holding his own high, he announced grandly.

“Tea time and all its polite niceties is officially over ladies. Now, what scandalous topic were you discussing?”

Lorna glanced at Pearle and shook her head back and forth, both of them trying to hold back laughter. Then both of them shouted so loud Godfrey was set back in his chair. 

“James is putting a tattoo on her arse.”  
“Pearle thinks French Bill is very fine.”

Godfrey flicked his glance back and forth between the two, his eyes definitely drifting towards Lorna with more interest. 

“No offense my dears, but I would much rather discuss the two gentlemen’s backsides.”

The laughter burst forth in the cabin, as the wine and conversation flowed. Godfrey adding his own risqué tales of life in the Molly House, which Pearle would try to out scandalize with debauchery within Helga’s whore house. To both their surprise, it was Lorna who won the impromptu contest, more based on the WHO, than what in particular went on behind the dropped curtain. Proving that no matter where one found themselves, when it came to matters of licentious behaviors - all the world indeed was a stage. 

The wine bottle nearly empty, their conversation turned to the destination ahead; each wondering what they might find when their feet once again stood upon dry land. Having never sailed so far, the ladies relied on a very brief history from Godfrey that New Orleans was one of largest and wealthiest cities in the United States. Largely due to its very active port which shipped goods not only into the interior, but out into the Caribbean, South America and Europe. While slavery was also a contributing factor, due to its previous Spanish rule it also boasted a thriving free black community. There were many carnivals throughout the year, influenced by the various Spanish, French, Native and African traditions that contributed to the cultural interest of the city. Naturally, they had no way of knowing yet just how greatly the city would be affected by the current war. The majority of residents still spoke French and they appropriately applauded when he treated them to a few select phrases. The ladies trying to mimic both words and accent with their tongues dulled by the wine and slurring the words beyond recognition. A few select bawdy phrases were tested and rolled across tongues with more due diligence and soon they were dissolving in fits of laughter. Godfrey reached for the wine bottle to refill the ladies cups only to find a single drop not forthcoming from the neck. 

Just as Godfrey was heading for the door, slightly off kilter and loudly drowning out their protests concerning afternoon drinking, a loud boom rent the silence of the afternoon. They exchanged glances and then setting down their glasses, both ladies followed in his footsteps and made a jagged dash for the door.

~

Lorna stepped onto the deck, the stinging coolness of rain immediately advancing a sober return to sense and balance. The first thing her eyes met are James own, and for once he cannot conceal the worry within. His feet carried him quickly and with little gentleness or ceremony he grabbed Robert by the shoulder on his way past the boy, half dragging him to Lorna’s side. Once the lad was in position, all that was required to garner his obedience was one of those fixed glares. Sensing his dark mood, Lorna remained quiet, but her intelligent eyes held his gaze, immediately understanding his intent. If whatever was about to happen went wrong, she was to get Robert safely out of harm’s way. Judging from the look upon Robert’s face as he pressed against her side and looked at her with those wide eyes; he was thinking the exact same regarding her. She swallowed her fear and nodded once at James, who was already turning away with a mumbled grunt. Godfrey leaned against her other shoulder, his mouth close to her ear.

“American privateer I wager. They have been looting British merchant ships along the coast.”

Her eyes lifted to just off the starboard bow where she could now see another ship approaching. 

“Probably a canon shot we heard.” Her eyes returned to his, wide with fear, and Godfrey rested a hand on her own. “Just a warning shot dear, or we’d already be sinking. But, they will board and likely take what they wish.” Seeing her eyes grow larger, he suddenly recalled the pirate attack. “Oh it won’t be as vile as those pirates my dear. They’ll just want a token of our gratitude for not being blown out of the water and allowed to pass. Hopefully James thought of such a possibility and made provisions.”

Recalling how James had left the ports without any produce to trade due to the reality of slavery and his own dark memories pressing down upon him, Lorna suddenly felt a knot of worry form in her stomach. For the boy’s sake her face remained calm and relaxed as she smiled down at the young face that sought her own for ease. With a wry smile she thought that more of James definitely seemed to be rubbing off on her if she could remain so stoic in such uncertain and almost terrifying events. She glanced over to where James stood with Atticus and Bill, their eyes on the approaching vessel, and only the tense line of his jaw gave his inner thoughts away. James had already shared with her that the remaining gunpowder had been hidden in a secret hold; built after the pirate attack when they left Ponta Delgado by a few discreet sailors trained in wood working. She hoped that the hiding spot would remain unknown. 

James raised the spyglass while the American ship drew closer and then passed it to William when he appeared beside him. 

Upon viewing, the gentleman mumbled aloud, “Lord Birmingham? What are you doing so far from home… and with the Americans? He glanced at James with a half-smile, then lifted the spyglass once more and chuckled deep in his chest. “Your Father will certainly not approve.”

James slanted his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he thoughtfully considered William who now stood still refusing to meet his gaze. The gentleman’s eyes darting to the approaching vessel and the lines of his jaw working overtime. However he could not hide the recognition James glimpsed within the man’s gaze each time his glance flickered towards the other ship.

“Lord? A Lord… are you acquainted with many Lords William? Seems an odd acquaintance to make through either theatre or pirating. Hmmm?”

William finally turned to meet James probing gaze, offering only a sheepish grin in return.  
“Not so different are we then James? Just two prodigal sons sailing the seas as our fathers once before us?”

James grunted a reply then stepped closer, his finger pointing at William’s chest, a side glance towards the ship now pulling along port-side.

“I have a use for you.”

~

The Captain who stepped upon the deck of _The Good Hope_ scanned narrowed eyes across those who had gathered. Quickly the keen gaze flickered over the sailors, then Bill at the helm and Atticus who stood beside him, then moving over to Godfrey – to only return with a brief raise of eyebrows at the sight of the wig and dress; though quickly recovered. Calmly he appeared to examine each face and found nothing worthy of a lingered gaze. Until his eyes fell on Lorna, her red hair whipping about her frame and drawing his attention for a lengthy perusal of her entire form. A bit of the hardness leeched from his glint, and he noted the fierce protective challenge in the boy’s eyes who was tucked up against her side. Advancing towards her, Lorna’s heart began a thundering drum pattern within her chest. If William was considered dashing, this gentlemen was positively swoon worthy. Tall and lean of form, he would easily tower over both James and William. Bright blue eyes held her gaze beneath a shock of sandy hair that fell over them in an unruly fashion; and she noted the soft concern evident there as he approached her. His face lean and tanned, cheekbones grafted from granite, but the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he offered her a slight smile softened the taut line of his jaw. A light scruff covered his handsome face, though still lending him a youthful appearance. Once within several feet, he nodded and tipped his hat with a drawled “ma’am” and her jaw hung slack until she remembered this was supposed to be a fearful moment. When he was almost before her, a dark figure suddenly blocked his path. His eyes lifted, dangerously narrowed only to meet the darker eyes of the one who halted his progress. 

“I beg your pardon, but I mean to address the lady so as to inquire as to her welfare.”

“I assure you the lady is well.” James held his stance.

The man sized up James, then once more glanced around the deck, eyes briefly resting on William who had his hat pulled down low upon his brow, before once more addressing James.

“You are Captain of this vessel I presume?”

“I am.” 

His eyes flickered to Lorna who stood still holding her breath, half praying James would not choose now to be one his foolish things moments. 

“And the lady?”

“Is under my care and protection. What is your business that you have boarded my ship Captain?” James cast a heavy glare in Williams’s direction, who slowly began to saunter towards the pair. While once more the Captain’s gaze lingered on Lorna.

“Ma’am it is my duty to ensure that you are in fact well treated and present aboard this vessel of your own volition?”

Lorna nodded her head, “I am. On both counts Sir.”

“May I have the pleasure of your name my lady?”

Lorna drew a breath and was just about to answer, when the chilling sound of a sword leaving its scabbard thickened the already heavy tension of the moment. The sun flashed upon the sharp edge as it was directed just below the Captain’s chin. His full height immediately aware and alert as one hand moved to his own sheathed sword and he turned to face his challenger.

“Ack! No, No Captain Birmingham. For shame, what shall I tell the lovely Raelynn of your eyeing another beauty? And do not bother drawing good sir….. you have not bested me with steel since we were nigh twelve years of age.”

Recognition slowly dawned in the Captain’s eyes, and he swore softly under his breath before placing a single finger on the edge of the sword and pushing it away. “Bloody hell Lord William Johnston. Of all the ships I am charged to plunder, your craggy face and twisted form have to be upon it.” 

The two man chortled loudly and moved into a quick and brotherly embrace full on with pats on the shoulders and liberal insults. James and Lorna exchanged glances, and she shook her head indicating that she had no idea as to William’s inclusion within English peerage. William pulled Captain Birmingham towards James.

“Captain, as well as Lord Jeffrey Birmingham, second heir to the Earl at Ross, our fearless and often fearsome Captain, James Keziah Delaney.” 

James fixed one of his brooding glares, but Jeffrey Birmingham remained unfazed and grabbed his hand in a mighty shake, his smile wide and laugh easy as he continued to banter and jibe with William. It was immediately evident they all had already glimpsed the one or two serious bones in the man’s body; all else were solely for jest. Even James begrudgingly cracked a smile as the two men exchanged well flung barbs. Catching his breath, Jeffrey turned to James, and performed a slight bow.

“Well it seems Captain Delaney that I cannot in good conscious plunder your ship for any goods, as both sides of this blasted war charge me to do. Not that I have a fondness for robbing trade merchants of their produce anyway. I simply boarded to inspect and ensure that all was well good Sir.”

James nodded, one of his odd mumblings his only reply. 

William, his face now serious addressed his childhood friend, “Both sides? How is there any movement in trade then? Seems rather a stalemate to me?

“Well there is very little movement, at all. In or out gentlemen. Although many vessels do find ways around such measures.” His voice lowered. “You do know there is a blockade ahead gentlemen? In the Gulf waters just before the port of New Orleans.”

James and William exchanged glances, but remained silent.

“I can escort you safely beyond the Channel, but I cannot get you through the blockade my friend. Not even a case of that fine whisky your family produces will get you passage.” His gaze shifted to James. “If you are States bound, do you have a plan at all Sir?”

James leaned forward, “Perhaps this is best discussed in private and we can let my crew return to their duties, and the others free to leave as well.” He held his gaze from shifting to Lorna.

“Indeed Mr. Delaney. We will take refreshments aboard my ship, if you will kindly follow me.” The three men turned to leave, but Jeffrey turned back and held a hand out to Lorna. “I must insist that you accompany me, my dear.”

Lorna’s face paled, while James eyes grew dark and one hand instinctively rested upon the hilt of a knife. He moved to place himself between Birmingham and Lorna. 

“Muaaah.” He lay on a palm on his chest. “And I must insist that she remain.”

Birmingham leaned against the hand upon his chest, his taller form giving him greater leverage. Meanwhile William crossed and grasped James about the elbow to pull him back. Birmingham easily side stepped around James retreating form.

“M’am I must insist now to easy my mind… your name please?”

Lorna glanced towards James, lips compressed in a thin line, until James nodded his head. 

“Mrs. Lorna Bow Delaney, Captain Birmingham.”

His face relaxed upon hearing her name, and he promptly executed a courtly bow, before turning towards James with a wide grin.

_Let’s assume that this woman is yours._

“Well then, splendid! You need not hide your wife from me Sir. I assure you I don’t request her presence for my enjoyment.” He turned towards William once more. “Raelynn is on my ship, and she will be delighted to have another woman to converse with after weeks stuck with only mine and the crews’ boring sailing stories.” 

Lorna stepped forward, handing Robert over to Godfrey as others began to take their leave from the deck. 

“Oh your wife sails with you often, does she?”

“No Mrs. Delaney, it just so happens she was having a holiday in the islands and I am merely escorting her safely back to the States.” He offered her his arm, earning a disgruntled glare from James, “She is originally from London, so I shall forewarn you that she is most desperate for any news. Fashions. Gossip. I fear she will likely exhaust you with questions within minutes.” 

Lorna smiled up at him, “She sounds delightful, it will be my pleasure to make sure she is adequately informed on all matters. Though I doubt we should be acquainted with the same circles. _Lord_ Johnston and _Lord_ Birmingham?” 

Both men broke into laughter. William clapped the other two men upon the back, and turned towards her, “Yes, Mrs. Delaney, it is not every day that you are treated to not one, not two, but three tales of prodigal sons. Since we are both the "spares" the titles matter little to us.” 

Lorna exchanged a glance with James, noted that even he could not hold back the hint of a smile. Intriguing men indeed. All striking out on their own paths, all of which lead to the sea. And she would be stuck having tea and gossiping about people she neither knew nor liked. Oh, to be on the right side of the wall where brandy was sipped and cigars smoked just once. 

As if he had read her mind, Birmingham suddenly halted at the side of the ship. “William? Aren’t you forgetting something?” At the other man’s raised brow. “I know you have a case of that fine blend. You may look different, but some things never change and you always travel with your father’s finest --- even if you cannot abide the man himself.” 

William’s laugh burst forth, but he signaled to a crew member who immediately went to do his bidding. “I have not missed you at all Jeff. Not a bit.” He cast a mischievous wink, “Though I am very much looking forward to kissing your wife – since I did miss the opportunity at your wedding.”

Birmingham quipped without missing a beat, “She didn’t miss you.”

William’s shook his head in mock sorrow, “Poor girl. If only I could have forewarned her before the vows were spoken.” 

The two men once again launched into teasing and trading of witty exchanges, leaving James and Lorna standing shaking their heads. 

“I might prefer taking tea with you ladies.”  
“Are you serious James? Oh, I can’t wait to hear more about these two.”

They both smiled at the antics of the two men, seemingly well down the path of childhood memories as their voices carried over the water from the other ship. James leaned over and brushed his lips briefly across her own, before offering his arm. Tucking her close against his side as they crossed to the other ship, Lorna peeked a side glance at his rugged profile, caught the smile in his eyes as he returned her gaze. 

As much as she was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Birmingham, her thoughts were too focused on why James had not corrected Captain, Lord Birmingham regarding the marital status of one Mrs. Lorna Bow Delaney. James was not one to be concerned with maintaining a cover of propriety regarding their relationship; thus she could not imagine why he would allow the false statement of their unmarried state to stand. Though it may very well be that he did it for her sake alone – not knowing her thoughts on the subject beyond the little safe haven of their own ship. 

It seemed she had a role change for this particular evening, from widow to wife. In truth, she had never felt to be either one properly. Her greatest fear would be to become wife to the one her heart would readily chose – only to be recast once again in the role of widow all too soon when his own recklessness inevitably caught up with him. There was no use in fooling herself to think his passing would be easily endured, for her heart already clenched at the mere thought alone. Suddenly she paused just before stepping upon the deck of the American ship, turning towards James, his wondering face seen through blurred vision. In that moment, she decided any amount of time she was graced to be by his side; to have him looking at her just as he was now: affection and concern swirling in the depths of his eyes. It would be enough. Propriety and titles be damned. Men seemed to cast them off so easily, and life still marched forward with very little consequence.

Absently her finger traced the puckered scar upon her arm, her face lifted to the now dry sky above. James reached a hand to brush the wind-blown tresses from her face; his brow knitted with worry.

“Are you well my love?”

She nodded, emotion choking the words in her throat. He held her still a few moments with his keen gaze, and she knew that charged air always between them would propel her thoughts along; her own emotions so strong they would leap right into his own eyes. This invisible thread between them; the connection was life long. It would stretch over time and space – no matter what they called it. Or one another. Love was the glue within that invisible tie, the bind that held. And how she had held. Fingertips traced round the edges of flesh that still waited for the sense of touch to return. Amazing how something that once caused great pain, now lacked any feeling at all. Just a numbness that she carried along each day, while the rest of her still eagerly sought out the depths of experience with unbridled enthusiasm. What is a scar but a wound that has healed anyway?

Her mind turned to James, still standing holding her close, trying to penetrate her thoughts. Scanning his body through the clothing, easily recalling each dark line and every scar. So many wounds inflicted, healing seemed a lifelong process. Holding his gaze, her finger lightly touched the scar upon his eye, before moving around his head to the ones she knew covered his skull. So much numbness to carry, and she finally understood another little mystery about the man Delaney. 

At what point, after incurring so many numbing wounds, did one just stop seeking the experiences of life with any measure of eagerness; let alone expectation? Happiness, peace, and hope must seem elusive things. A loneliness of the soul that grows deeper along with the pain that is buried, until one moves through life as though walking dead. 

“Lorna? Do you wish me to take you back to the cabin?” His fingers gripped her chin lightly, forcing her gaze to his own. She shook her head in his grasp, saw the spark flicker in his gaze. 

“I’m fine James.” 

“No, you are not. Do you think you can hide such things from me now?”

“No. I will not hide it from you James.” She glanced to where the two other men were waiting for them on the quarter deck. “I’m just not sure I can explain it quite well, just yet. But I will, in time. Until then, it’s nothing of great concern, I promise you.” 

She leaned forward intending to only brush a kiss, but he pulled her hard against his chest and let the moment lengthen. If he could have let manners slide and sweep her into his arms, making post haste towards their cabin where they would spend the closing of this day together; he would. Instead he did what he always had done since she first swept into his life; he chose to trust. It was only a matter of time, and he knew she would tell him what had so captured her thoughts this day. The smile she gave him shone in her eyes, and tucking her arm within his own once more, he escorted her towards the two Lords still a laughing. 

Many great works have been written in the language of love; yet sometimes it is silent.  
Often, rooted in trust, love just _does._


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blockade looms ahead and as his anxiety mounts, the darkness continues to gather in James head. Madness erupting and violence threatening to spill from every pore; even onto the one he loves. Chained to his venomous will, tempted to cavort and stroke that dark sin, can Lorna still hold out -- hopeful peace will be restored once more?
> 
> The dead will sing, but will James still listen? The key to unlocking the mysteries of his mind lay in what's not there...

Seated at the table with eyes straining in the low light while she carefully pulled a needle through the fabric of one of James shirts, Lorna’s glance darted every now and then to where he remained in the shadowed corner. Knelt down upon the floor with one hand resting on the edge of his trunk, the other rubbing his brow to distraction. Her mind knew the path of his thoughts and the same apprehensiveness pulsed through her own veins, for indeed they were sailing into a storm. The blockade likely to be reached within a day or two at most, and much to her own surprise, she felt no fear. The surge of anxiety instead serving as just the jolt needed to remind her that few good things in life come without some kind of cost to the self. Fingertips had traced the scar upon her arm frequently this day. A lasting reminder that though her steps might be hindered – they would not be halted. 

They had enjoyed a pleasant visit aboard Captain Birmingham’s ship, even lingering long after an evening meal. However since their return James had fallen silent and distant. The cabin walls felt coated with his ill ease, and if she thought it would help, she would walk straight over and tell him she loved him. That she’d do anything for him. Go anywhere. Heart racing with the need to say: you are my choice. No matter what. Flaws and all. But the words were caught in her chest, as once more he remained cloaked in his silence and the weight of his anxiety a pressing burden upon their evening. Eyes flickered once more as he released a deep sigh followed by his characteristic mumbling, and the needle poked painfully into her finger.

“Ooh! Hell.” 

Inspecting the injured digit as the bright, red sphere formed on the tip, she sucked the drop of blood quickly before it fell upon the fabric. Shaking the finger to ease the sting, her eyes lifted and found his glance upon her, a crease between his brows. Slowly he rose and the shuffled gait carried him across the boards to stand above her. Reaching out, he lifted the hand and inspected the finger, a newly formed drop of blood dangling precariously from the edge. There was a darkness behind his eyes - a hint of the devil he held at bay lurking in the corners and beckoning to her softness. The warmth of his mouth closed around the now throbbing digit; the lap of his tongue upon the tip and her breath caught along with the words that had already died there. Sucking gently while those dark orbs glowed with the need to penetrate her will, but Lorna sensed a different kind of passion come calling; rising from the depths where he stowed his violence. The mesmerizing pull of his gaze and the warm wetness of his mouth flashing forth erotic images of its other talents and her centre clenched in response. This intoxicating air of danger that circled around him, a temptation she had flirted with, but never brought to full fruition, let alone sought to tame. His teeth nipped the soft roundness before drawing the digit slowly from his mouth, then trailed down the smooth lines of her porcelain palm to suck upon the pulse that beat an erratic tempo at her wrist. Trailing down the blue line that raised in stark contrast to her pale skin until reaching the sensitive spot of her inner elbow where his grip suddenly tightened painfully, and James hauled her to his chest. 

Both their breaths held in this moment so unlike those that had come before. His eyes holding her own and she could see they had turned black as midnight. At the edges, desire faded and melted into conquest, and though it caused a trembling of her entire form, she understood his need. A tiny gasp emitted when his hand shot forth and clenched her jaw tightly; a callused thumb tracing across the fullness of her lips. Forcing her jaw open, he pushed his own finger inside and instinctively her mouth closed upon it as he pushed it slowly in and out; the hunger visible in his gaze. His breath rasped through gritted teeth at the warm, gentle sucking motion she employed and his cock strained thick and hard within his breeches. _Get on your fucking knees_ … the words that lodged in his brain, but he would not voice the demand. The small bit of fear she held, a scent in the room that drifted through his flared nostrils, and the sensation is intoxicating. Easily addictive if this game of desire became their standard play. Yet some sense of softness towards her lingered in the corner of his heart where love had built its own fortress, restraining the violence that demanded to be set free. 

Resisting her quiet compliance was not entirely possible and his mouth crushed down upon her own, bruising the tender fullness. She felt the hardness in the demand of his lips upon her own – the vice like grip of his fingers digging into her arms. A growl built within his chest and tearing his mouth from hers, hissed its release upon the delicate flesh by her ear. Teeth grazed down her throat; alternating between gentle nips and then came the brief pain of a sharp point just short of piercing the skin. His African language burned upon tender flesh. Her knees sagged and hands clutched at the folds of his shirt as this wicked desire swirled throughout her entire body. A tingling sensation erupting every place his mouth, teeth and stubble grazed upon her skin. She knew not if her heart accelerated due to fear, or anticipation; her own body confused as to what it wanted in this moment. James breathed in her arousal laced with the confusion like a drug that set his mind exploding in a frenzy of sparks. Engulfing his senses and maybe, just maybe this powerful possession will steal away the sense of worry that knotted in his gut. Conquer this cloying helplessness that threatened his confidence. Her body shivered against him, another kind of helplessness and the pull to wrestle and dominate that weakness she roused in him was a powerful urge. His mouth returned to hers, devouring the last grasped fragments of her will and seeking to tear them asunder. Felt the resistance in how her body began to lean away from his own. A disconnect growing between them though his lips and hands held her to him. Lorna placed her hands against his strong chest and pushed back, her eyes wide and searching his own when she gained her release. This dark passion had arrived unannounced and he knew it could only lead to an explosive ending; but it’s not the ending he seeks. Like a bomb his selfish and domineering need would litter the space between them in sharp, brutal fragments; a gulf between them that filled with the fallout forever. 

And he’d already walked a similar path before. It was not their path. 

She stood before him, quiet and still and it pained him to see the mixture of uncertainty, desire and panic combined in her features. The bewilderment evident in her gaze and he hated himself for placing it there. That this violence that coiled inside him had drawn her into its venomous web. She’d seen but a small glimpse of what might unfold this night. Even still her softness and goodness were a sirens call of its own that played upon him. Tempting him to push the limits, though he knew he could hurt her if he allowed this devil inside its playtime. The need to punish that goodness the unvoiced desire that lurked in the back of his mind. His eyes probed her own, seeking to measure her resolve and he saw the narrowed glare she held. Her arms crossed protectively across her slender form, but she did not move away. Nor did any anger rise from her person. 

His gaze lowered. “I need to go.”

Lorna took a deep breath and briefly closed her eyes, willing a calmness into her voice. When she opened them and saw his own lost gaze beseeching her own, her heart flipped over: _to be a Delaney man was a cursed thing._

Her head slowly nodded; her voice was firm. “Yes, you should go.”

Before he could turn to leave, she crossed the space that divided them, not willing he should depart with dejection and shame. Her hands reached to either side of his head and she kissed him gently; his name softly whispered. 

“Go and do what you need to do.” She forced his gaze to her own, wanting him to see the hope and trust she still held. “And then James…. come back to me.”  
_I will not away._

His body held back a choking sob that threatened to burst forth, and he pulled her close and kissed her brow. She had not mocked him for being unwell, and the mercy of that finally broke through the addled part of his brain. 

“Go to sleep, do not wait for me this night.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, a gentle brush. “I will be back before the light.”  
_We will catch one another._

When he had left, Lorna sank down upon the bed, the tears threatening to spill. Her mind still holding the confusion concerning that part of her which had invited his darker bent. Had wanted to cavort and stroke the violent urge that had pulsed within him. The truth that she craved his complete possession a shocking and bitter truth to swallow. The thrill of being the one desired above all others, his possession and obsession visible marks upon tender flesh branding her as his own, was a temptation that had threatened to conquer any reason. But not like this – a punishment for another’s sin and folly held no lure. It was not her debt to pay. Wiping her cheeks, her chin raised and spying his trunk in the corner, she suddenly saw her way. _Balance_ he had said. She hoped she could remember the process – prayed any gods would forgive her fumbled steps and see the heart beneath the poorly executed method. With new resolve she rose and headed towards his trunk to retrieve the items; grabbing her own lavender leaves along the way.  
~  
James paced the deck of his ship, the worn boards which creaked during the day sitting silent beneath his tread this bleak night. If only all his steps could be so sure. His eyes glanced upward and glimpsed the full moon cast in a blood red shadowed ring: a sign of trouble on the way. As he stared out across the open sea a host of turbulent images assaulted his mind. Flashes of his mother in her crow dress and painted face, his half-sister floating in the water, bondage, torture, and decaying flesh burnt under a hot African sun. Slow blinking eyes scanned the horizon and his ash covered form appeared as though rising from the depths of the sea; mouth gaping and ringed in black-red blood. Shrouded in a smoke like mist that swirled around his mud caked torso, a familiar scent mingling with the ocean breeze. Suspended like jetsam until claw like hands reached up from beneath and pulled at his limbs to drag him back down. _The dead don’t sing. The dead don’t sing._ The refrain repeated in his mind; that calm voice reaching through the fog and filth that encrusted the landscape of his fragile mind. Another thought breaking through as the images slowly faded like smoke blown adrift: Winter has not come. 

His mind struggled to connect the thought. _Winter? Like the Seasons? Change? What?_

Moving to the stern of the boat, he hauled himself upon the edge, feet dangling above the murky, churning waves below. If he glanced below, the gold plated name emblazoned with hope could be seen. And just below the bank of windows where unknown to him, his love sought her own course through the thick haze of tangled thoughts and desires. Reaching inside his pockets, he brought the ash scooped from their smoke fire and cupping his hands about his mouth, blew into the night air. Dusted his hands then spread them wide, sweeping back together in front with his elbows resting upon bent knees. The Twi language flowed out into the night. Eyes drifting closed and his body swaying in tempo with the rocking motion of the ship, he set his mind adrift: open to whatever may come. Zilpha’s black gowned body floated just beneath the boat, raven hair mingled with the blackness of the currents. A hushed and forsaken whisper rising from beneath the surface, though no bubbles were seen. 

_You said you loved me James._

Her eyes wide and unfocused and he knew suddenly he had no desire any longer to feed her with. No love to spare now that his heart was full of spoken and visible promise. _Hhhmm, but you never said you loved me, did you? Not once. Not ever._

James eyes opened while slowly hers closed; body gliding beneath the stern of the boat as it sailed onward. His vision now seen from the ashen creature of his darkest self - still floating just beyond and behind rose the crow mother, holding her infant above the slick surface. Turning towards his mother, their gazes meeting and his infant body suspended in time and memory.

_Nootka is not for sale._

Salish held her wee son to her breast as the tears streamed down her face and head titled back to howl her pain to the shrouded moon. Then releasing her infant upon the brackish surf, she slipped slowly beneath the waves. His own tiny form floated mere moments before it too began to surrender to the depths. Just as the water closed over his head, James arms caked in dried mud and ash reached forth and pulled his babe self into the safety of his chest. He sucked in a great gulp of air, eyes flying open just as his balance on the edge of the ship began to falter. Gripping the sides while he searched with vision blurred the slick surface for the image he wanted to hold a little longer – but all had faded to misty vapours. The aromatic mist still lingering above the surface of the still waters. James heaved his body around and with a heavy exhale sank to the floor of the ship. As the tears dried, his mind began to clear – the missing wraith like image suddenly clear. 

Winter’s young and hopeful face swam before him, holding a place in memory alone that could not be exorcised. He had not seen Winter’s ghost and she had not sang to him. The truth of it suddenly hit him like a blow to his chest: he had no guilt to feed her. An act for which he did not require forgiveness and his mind now swam with the image of the one who had fought for him so it should be so. How she acted of her own volition and not a command or bonded oath, so that this one horrible, sinful act would not be his to atone. The gift she had given in easing his tortured mind – could he give her back half as much? Was his love so selfish that it still would demand her will bent to his own? The smoke-like wisps twisted about his form and he breathed deeply the clarifying scent. 

_Have you never sold a soul for beads?_

Forgiveness. It was all clear now. Forgiveness for others, forgiveness of self. Why his father had wanted him home. So many letters and so many fires burned and James had remained resolute in his stubborn will and bitterness. The tears came hot and thick as he realized the truth of Brace’s words. He had come home too late and now he understood just how much guilt could haunt a man into madness. A seagull cried overhead and James watched its flight against the night wind. It’s gray body pitched about until wings spread to catch a current, it glided down to perch upon the mast. All this chaos in his head was simply birds flying about: guilt, regret, fear, pain… loneliness. Each one tossed about and then taking a turn to land and sink its talons deep, leaving him isolated within his own mind. The truth came swiftly then: if they only existed in his mind, than he could also chose to allow them to fly away. With a half smiled grunt, the greater truth took root: his mind could also allow other emotions to come home to roost. And they could even blend with another of like mind and feeling. He swiftly rose and left the gloom of the stern at his back, eager now to return to the connection that brought balance. 

 

~

The moon was sinking to her rest when James finally staggered weary and worn into the darkened cabin. A few steps through the door and the lavender scent flooded his senses. Small wisps of smoke still lingered low in the corners and his glance spied the ash she had saved in a jar for later disposal. Heart clenching as he realized what she had been doing while he fought his own demons. _We are the same._ The reality of how she cared for him almost its own torture to endure; though he knew in the depths of his core he needed this safe harbor. His mind may still fight this truth, but his nature knew hers and chose to trust. It had revealed his scars to her alone, when he sought to hide his broken insides from everyone else. 

Glancing to the bed where she slept so serenely – the calm centre awaiting the storm to pass. Quickly he crossed, needing that warmth and consistency more than ever, discarding clothing as he approached. Boots kicked to the corner and trousers left in a heap upon the scarred planks. Quietly standing beside the bed clad in only his shirt, smiling as he gazed down on her pale visage unmarked by worry or guilt --- just that one line he still longed to trace a finger upon. How could he protect this gift of light, when he was the gale that threatened its fragile flame the most? Even at his darkest, it still glowed and gathered him to its power, never draining; shining strong as though it knew tomorrow was guaranteed. He leaned one knee upon the bed and her eyes drifted open, immediately seeking his own. Holding her soft gaze while he settled down upon the bed and cradled her against his chest. That she came willing, unafraid was another pierce to his heart, but he knocked the unworthy bird from its perch and kissed her long and slow. She sighed deep and lay her head next to his, their gazes locked while her hand rested upon his cheek. The carousel of his thoughts winding down to stillness, until the last thing seen was her surrendering eyes fluttering closed, and he released himself to sleep. 

~

Darkness gave way to light and still their heads lay resting close together upon a shared pillow. Lorna’s cheek tucked against his neck, the scruff of his jawline grazing her brow. Her hand had dropped to lay upon his chest; the warmth seeping along her veins and spreading like a welcome fire. Sleep wanted to drag her under, but the gentle rubbing along the curve of her back and the fingers moving through her hair hauled her up to wakefulness. The hour still tranquil and no sounds from the ships deck above filtered down. Only the gentle patter of rain that had begun again upon the bank of glass. She raised her head and kissed his stubble covered jaw, and James placed on of his own upon her cheek. He drew back to hold her gaze – the events of the previous night still a fresh impression on his mind. As always, her eyes searched his own with a calm certainty that was her way. 

“Did you find what you were seeking?”

She smiled softly, “Well, I was able to fall asleep feeling quite at ease… and... you did come back. So, yes it is good.”

She could see he fought the threat of tears in his brief glance away, but his arms wrapped around her tight and face nuzzled into her hair. The strained pitch of his voice higher than normal. 

“You are not afraid of me. Last night, I could have…”

Her own voice muffled from where it was pressed against firm chest muscles. “You would not hurt me James. I know this. You did not hurt Winter and you would not hurt me.”

She pulled back, hands reaching for his face to pull his gaze back to her own, fingers stroking down his roughened cheek. Saying nothing more and allowing the stillness of the moment to linger between them. Once more the strength of her love a demonstrated thing in how fiercely she held on.

“I did not see her and she did not sing to me.” 

“And did others?”

“Yes, but I think… not anymore.”

“Why do you think that is now?” 

He shifted and rolled onto his back, eyes fixed on the low ceiling. “I starved them and made them homeless.”

Her chin lifted, and brow raised.

“They feed off my emotions: guilt, anger, fear… if I do not give them their ration, they cannot eat. And if they cannot eat, they will not perch in my brain. So you see, I can control the tide of my thoughts. What I feed, will grow. What I starve, will die.”

She nodded. “I know you can.”

He smirked down at her, “Ahh, and how do you know this?”

She kissed his chin, “Because you left me last night. You knew the path we were treading and you choose a different road. Knew better than I did.” She sat up, leaned her chest upon his own, chin in her hand. “James, if you were beyond saving, past evolving… you would have not left this cabin. And I might not have stopped you… I couldn’t see clearly myself until…” 

James chuckled and she paused, cast him a curious glance. “What?”

His hand pulled through the red tangled curtain of curls, “If I had not left, I would be displaying fresh cuts from your wicked little knife my love, of this I have no doubt.” He rolled over and pinned her beneath his weight, pressing a finger to the tip of her nose. “You would have fought me tooth and nail, and likely won my feisty minx.” 

She nipped the tip of his finger and he grunted another laugh.

“Maybe. Or maybe I would have just asked the devil nicely to behave.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down to her lips, “Since I know he doesn’t want to be starved or homeless either.”

“Muaah.” His hands roamed down over her body, gripping the hem of her shift. The warmth of his mouth trailed kisses down the pale flesh to her breasts, nuzzling into the curve of her neck. Her hands smoothed down his hair, kneading the skin at the back of his neck. 

“I told you we would find the answers in America.” 

“And if we did not?”

Soft lips pressed against his forehead as she hugged him close. 

“You know the answer to that James.”

His head lifted, brow raised at her soft smile.

“We hold out.”

James sat up and pulled her to him; wrapping his arms tight around her slender form. Her arms slipped behind to grasp his neck and they knelt together on the bed, just holding one another. Sinking into each other’s warmth and sharing strength. The softness of her skin a cocoon against his hardness. He had wanted to wake this morning and make love to her slow and long, murmuring his love into every line his fingers traced upon her skin. Show her the man she saw inside. The truth was she had always seen that man. The only bird allowed to seek a roost within him, perched in his soul - and its name was truth. 

~

It was with some reluctance that the pair dragged themselves from the comforting nest of their shared bed, and dressed to say a farewell to the American Captain who had shared his knowledge, food and company. Captain Birmingham and his wife were already on the main deck when James and Lorna arrived, and they greeted one another almost as old friends. Raelynn enfolded Lorna in a warm embrace, reluctant to lose the feminine companionship she had so enjoyed the previous evening. Invitations were extended that the Delaney’s were always welcome should they ever find themselves in Charleston. Jeffrey, William and James already had discussed common trade interests the previous evening and commitments were confirmed. Raelynn, her smile wide, presented Lorna with a beautiful handmade blanket, large enough to cover two.

“From one Captain’s wife who knows how cold a ship becomes when the sun sinks low, to another –may you always find warmth in each other no matter the chill of the world around you.”

James and Lorna exchanged a quick glance, the perfect choice of her words settling in their hearts like a benediction of the future they sought. Lorna once again pausing to review her thoughts regarding the assumption of their marital state. 

Captai Birmingham reminded them of his earlier warning concerning the tendency of British warships to force British sailors into service of the Royal Navy; James solemnly nodding; full aware he can spare any crew members. With a few parting bottles of William’s family’s finest under their arms, the Birminghams took their leave. Once back aboard his own ship, Captain Birmingham proceeded to lead The Good Hope safely through the Channel and its reef laden shores. The rain continued to fall in a light mist and lifting eyes to the darkening skies beyond, James recommended Lorna seek the dry confines of their cabin for the remainder of this day. With a knowing glance towards Robert, she agreed and invited the young lad for tea and lessons. Robert smiled at the thought of tea with her, but frowned slightly at the prospect of lessons when he knew James planned to rehearse the flag signals necessary to sail the ship safely through the blockade. 

Apprehension hung low over the boat as many sought the solitary quiet of their respective berths, save for the necessary crew members who remained with James and Atticus upon the main deck. French Bill steady at the wheel, following the bigger ship as it plotted a course through the approaching storm. Even William sought a respite from the rain, seeking a warm spot to ward off the chill by the galley fire, with a heavy hardcover book of plays opened in his large hands. After several rehearsals of the flag signals, James nodded his satisfaction. Seeing nothing new on the horizon but foreboding clouds and grayer skies, he too sought the shelter of what would hopefully be a warm cabin. The thought of snuggling the warm, soft and welcoming lines of a pale body beneath that new blanket a temptation too great to resist. His chilled skin already begging for the warmth of her hands gliding upon it, and her lips softening the hard, tense lines of his mouth. He hurried down the passage and threw open the cabin door with no warning. Robert’s wide set eyes met his own, and with no words exchanged, the boy fled the cabin without so much a parting word or glance. 

~

Lorna laughed softly at the boy’s hasty retreat, and would have cast a look of reproach to the man who stood dripping upon the threshold, but the heat of the previous evening had never really dissipated in her veins. Seeing the same fire in his gaze, she swallowed any words her tongue might have conjured. Having been held hostage in the cabin the better part of the day, with James only coming and going as required, she hoped this latest darkening of their door was of a longer duration. The storm outside now having reached a fury and she could see a similar one brewing in the depth of the eyes that held her own as he stripped from his wet clothing. Standing naked, he scanned her delicate profile outlined against the darkening sky beyond, testing her mood. He had not made love to her since the other evening when he left the cabin, and his need for her had long been goading at his insides. Hearing his sigh and no doubt sensing the weight of his gaze, Lorna stood calmly waiting his move, the charge of electricity in the room rivaling the one beyond its door. 

He shot a curious look. “Did you bring that book?”

Her eyes widened, taken aback, “Heavens no. There was barely time to grab a hair brush.”

He frowned deeply. “Do you remember anything else?”

“No, I put it down immediately… I only happened upon that particular page by accident. Why?”

They sat silently staring for a few moments. He saw that certain something spark in her eyes again. Oh yes, she was his… and he was hers. And they were not likely to leave this cabin anytime soon today. 

“Do you want to try something different – rather like what you did the other day?” He held a finger up in the air and made a turning motion. Her gaze narrowed in wonder and then widened again; curiosity and desire mingling and his own passion shot skyward. He could see her pupils dilate as the memory of that encounter flashed across her mind – as sure as it was running through his own. 

Her head nodded only once, and they were both scrambling over to their bed. Kneeling in the middle, while he stood at the edge, she reached up to wrap her hands around his neck, their mouths merging in an immediate burst of passion. The fire between them never really extinguished, but only banked for a time until stoked once more. Easily lit with the lightest stroke or breath of air. He felt the need to demonstrate the intensity of the previous evening, but without any of the dark threat looming between them. That he could control the path of his thoughts and the darkness of his desires. Already knowing how he will direct the play and his arousal approaching the brink, James swept the gown over her head and tossed it upon the floor. Her hands already running along the hard lines and marked bands of his naked glory until her head swam with adoration and anticipation. Grasping his erection already firm and tall, throbbing against his lean torso. His head immediately dove to brush lips and beard across her breasts; pulling her own desire to the same soaring height as his own. The sense of urgency threatened to sweep them both along too fast, as she lowered to lay back upon the bed, but James grabbed her hands and kept her pulled close against his chest. A _tsk tsk tsk_ as he shook his head and made the turning motion again with his finger. She stared back confused as to how she should turn. He smiled – god she really had no idea and it only excited him further. His voice a deep growl laced with craving need.

“Flip over. On your hands and knees.”

She cast a dubious glance, but then understanding, immediately complied. Her long hair tumbled down the exposed curve of her back, rounded ass raised in the air and the visual alone was almost his undoing. Pushing her slightly forward, his finger ran down her slit finding it already slick and he groaned deep at her scent that was already causing a heady trance. Taking himself in hand, he pumped a few slow and long strokes – caught her glance over her shoulder and the hunger burned in her eyes as she watched his strong hands gliding over his hardened length. He ran the tip along her wet folds, just a tease, and spread the slickness along his engorged shaft. Positioning himself close against her backside, he rubbed against the velvet moistness, heard her gasp as her head dropped low - creating a lovely arch in her back. With a groan he pushed the swollen head inside a few inches, and again she glanced over her shoulder; pressing back into his hard fullness. Wanting all of him to fill her completely. Her eager willingness breaking the tenuous hold he already had on his restraint. He pushed inside not pausing until he was fully breached, finding her hot and tight. Hot breath expelled in one long exhale as he paused a moment, and she wiggled her ass in response. Much to his surprise he felt the heat already charging from his balls and breathed deeply to calm himself, hands gripping her hips to hold her still. 

“Easy love or this will be over before it begins.” 

She stilled, but her eyes were fastened on his, and not helping to calm his arousal in any way. Wanting to last for her, he unsheathed himself and she whimpered in reply. _Fuck, he was going to erupt right on the sheets and he’d barely touched her yet._ One hand rubbed along her wet mons, while the other traveled the long length of her back and gently gripped the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her back to meet his kiss. His tongue probed inside her mouth as two fingers slipped inside down below. She moaned deep and rocked back against his fingers, fucking them hard in pursuit of her pleasure. He released her mouth and his other hand joined the first. Thumb strumming along her clit while he continued stroking her deep and slow inside and her hips bucked at the intensity that began to build. Panted breath and whimpers filling the cabin, loud above the driving rain. Her climax was coming hard and fast and he wanted to feel the tight contractions milking his own release. He withdrew the fingers, but kept the steady rhythm of his thumb, her head turned to watch his eyes as he slid his already throbbing cock slowly inside. Holding himself still a moment while he held her gaze, until she softly pleaded for him to move. He pulled himself halfway out before a groan tore from his throat, and slammed back inside, rocking her forward on her hands. The slap of his pelvis against her ass a satisfying sound that only drive his passion further. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed this release inside her like he needed air. 

The fire coiled in his gut; overcome by so many sensations. The visual of her pressing raised hips back against his own. The sleek, hot feel of being sheathed so deep inside. The sight of his arousal sliding in and out of the wet folds. A ragged breath torn when his stroking cock felt her walls flutter and spasm along its length, and with a grip that pulled him deeper she contracted around him. All of it wrapped in the fierce love that was spilling from his heart – knowing that he should be so damn lucky to have this at all. Hearing his name surge from her lips between the panting breaths of her climax, he slowed his pace to gliding gently in and out, knowing he could draw another orgasm forth. Each inch gained and lost and savoured fully. He could feel the quivering of her legs, the breathless moans and he reached a hand around to gently rub her swollen nub. She bucked back against him, spiraling higher again, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer. His head tipped back and growled a curse to the ceiling, slamming hard enough to make her ass cheeks ripple and he came harder than he’d ever climaxed in his entire life. The force of his thrusts bringing her over the edge once again with him. She gripped him so strong his release kept coming, his dick erupting fire deep inside and he couldn’t stop his thrusts though he was gasping and moaning deep gulps of air into burning lungs. He pulled his cock out with effort and it still pulsed a hot jet of cum over the ripe curve of her ass. With a strangled groan his weight collapsed upon her back, and he could still feel the quivering spasms flowing deep within her as she gradually came down. Her arms gave out and they fell down up the bed with a great sigh. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, nibbling the tender flesh between gasps for air.

“You’re going to fucking kill me love.”

He felt her laugh beneath his weight. “Better this way than by my knives Sir Dragon?”

He chuckled at the name. “Dragon?”

She hummed a sound not unlike his own beneath him. “Hhmmm. You spit hot fire within and upon me.” She winked at him over a pale shoulder and he could not deny he had more than earned the pet name with this encounter. Completely drained, he rolled on his side and wrapped an arm across her smooth back, rubbing his hand up and down its length. 

“Still I think your little knife would do less damage.” 

“Not as much damage as your bold blade does to me.”

He squinted at her, and saw the lips compressed to hold in her laughter. With a deep groan he lay his head upon the bed, then lifted it once more and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

“I think you need to be _pun_ -ished.” Her laugh rang out loud in the cabin. “Give me twenty minutes of a nap and then I will fuck that bold humour from you, I swear my love.”

She turned and snuggled in his arms, whispering against his lips, “Sleep and then breathe your worst dear dragon.” She kissed him softly, “I love how you love me.”

James pulled her close to deepen the kiss, gratitude pouring from every pore that she had given him the chance to show his worth. Choked by emotion, he could only hold her close. Despite the anxiety that had riddled him over the past twenty four hours, he knew there was a lot of good moments he was going to remember about these sailing days. Deeply sated he fall asleep before he could tell her falling in love with her may have been the only good thing he had ever done in his life. They both drifted soundless in slumber, while the storm raged outside; the thunder crashing and lightning flashing upon the walls. Neither stirring from the other’s arms. 

It was the harsh loud banging upon the door – before James could wake and fulfill his promise – that brought them up quickly from peaceful depths. James pulled the blanket over them and called admittance. Robert burst throw the door, eyes wider than he’d ever seen and face flushed red. 

“They’re here Mr. Delaney!! The British ships are here.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boarded. James encounters the blockade; will the signals prove worthy?  
> He will have to give something up, to get something in return.
> 
> And he still owes Lorna back for her bad puns. ;)

The boy stood frozen just inside the doorway, eyes wide and jaw slack. James had leapt from the bed and vaulted over Lorna’s still blanket shrouded body. A most unfortunate sight for both boy and woman since he was completely naked. Robert’s eyes widened considerably – as if that even seemed possible – and he remained still and quiet while James did a hopping dance into his trousers. A dry shirt was pulled over his head quickly, and then he turned in a circle slowly, picking up speed and becoming frantic as his gaze wildly searched.

“Boots?!”

Lorna’s muffled voice from where the covers were pulled up to her chin came from the bed, “James you kicked them off into the corner. As always.”

James tossed her a _really, now?_ glare before his gaze finally landed on his boots scattered over in the far corner of the room. _How had he managed to kick them…?_ He shook his head to clear the thought and marched straight over, once again a strange hopping on each foot commenced as he quickly pulled them on. A frown crossed his features as it became clear they were still wet. With a grimace and a slight _slish-slosh_ sound he crossed back to retrieve his coat and hat, pulling Robert fully into the room before he took his leave.

He raised a finger to the boy’s nose. “Stay.”

Then his eyes crossed to Lorna, still hiding within the bed. “Double for you, hhhmmm?”

Knowing how anxious he had been the past week, this was one time she did not feel the need to assert her stubborn, independent streak. She nodded calmly.

“I have no desire to leave the warm confines of this cabin to go trekking above deck in the storm James. I will remain.”

He slanted his head, peered at her carefully; it seemed too easy. His eyes flicked to the storm that was easily viewed through the cabin windows, and then back to her cozy and covered form in the warm bed, and he nodded his head. To be sure, his gaze flickered towards Robert who now sat at the table, and the boy nodded his understanding. Ms. Lorna was not to leave the cabin. Under any circumstances. Just as he was passing through the door, her voice called out, the worried undertone betraying her feelings.

“James. Do be careful.”

Brain focused on the task at hand, barely gave notice to the passing thought that she was naked and warm and inviting beneath those sheets. Barely.

Typically, all they received was a grunted reply and then the sound of his boots running towards the upper deck.

Lorna, realizing she was left naked in the room with the young boy, bit her lip and considered how to broach the fact that she would have to get dressed. Not wanting to unduly shock or embarrass him, although having lived at sea with uncouth sailors, she was certain the boy had received a rather interesting education and certainly knew exactly what transpired between her and James in this room. It didn’t also mean it had to be so blatantly put forth in his face either.

“Robert, why don’t you go to your cabin and fetch that game we’ve played before? To help pass the time.”

Robert nodded eagerly and rose to leave. “I’ll be quick Ms. Lorna.”

“No!!” She calmed her voice. “That is, I mean there is no rush. We shall have plenty of time while navigating the blockades. Might as well bring some playing cards as well.” 

Robert nodded, a flush creeping up his cheeks and hastily made his exit. On the other side of the door, he smiled broadly. In his young mind, the more times it was obvious Mr. and Mrs. Delaney were doing that in their room, the better the odds that his happy family wish might come true. Since the walls between the cabins were not so thick as to block out all sounds on a quiet night at sea… he thought the odds were very good indeed. 

~

James came swiftly up the ladder and no sooner made two feet progress when he slipped on the rain soaked deck. Lying prone upon his back gave him a good vantage of the punishing winds and choppy waves that both beat upon the ship. The horizon merging into the same singular angry hue. The crew scrambled and slipped about the deck, desperately trying to tie down sails beat mercilessly by the storm. The taste of salt was strong in his mouth as both rain and ocean spray bit his cheeks. In the midst of this panic stood Atticus, braced upon the boards and hollering orders. A glance behind him saw Bill straining against the wheel to keep the ship steady in the gale. Upon the quarter deck William, legs braced wide and sturdy with the spyglass raised; was gazing off the starboard bow of the ship. Raising on an elbow, wincing against a pain in his side, James followed the direction of his gaze and saw a ship approaching fast. Atticus turned and saw James raising to his knees, shielding his eyes from the downpour as he looked to the signal halyard. The flags flapped erratically in the strong winds and he was barely able to decipher what they were. He raised a worried visage to Atticus as he came over to lend assistance. A finger pointed skyward and his voice shouting to be heard above the fury of the storm. 

“That’s a problem Atticus.”

The sailor who had encountered more than enough storms at sea to test his worthiness and find it sound, “Honestly James, right now I am more worried about losing all the damn sails on this ship.”

They both glanced towards the masts to check the progress of the crew in tying down the sails. The lines whipping about in the storm; a sailor holding on desperately to each end. Others balanced precariously in the rigging, or clinging to a mast. Suddenly the ship pitched beneath them, crested on a wave and then settled once again with a bone jarring jolt. In the Captain’s Cabin below, Lorna’s favourite teacup bounced off the table and crashed to the floor. It was the only item she had taken from the old Delaney home.

James hauled himself to his feet, met with a briny slap of chilled surf for his efforts. “Atticus, if they can’t read the signal flags…” his arm stretched forth and pointed to the approaching ship. Atticus followed the line of sight and nodded.

“I know, I know… we’ll get the main sails squared away, and then get extra lines held on the signal halyard.” He took one quick glance around of the entire ship and then out to sea. “As storms go James, is certainly not the worst I’ve sailed through. She’ll hold.” 

James held his gaze for a few moments, than nodded. If his First Mate wasn’t panicking, then neither would he. They strode towards lending assistance with the sails and instructing the crew regarding the signal flags. William came over in the middle of the explanation and immediately requested to oversee the securing of the signal halyard. James nodded, his anxiety dissipating as each necessary task was carried out swiftly by his crew. Still he often glanced towards the approaching vessel. It appeared the remaining ships of the blockade fleet held their scattered out positions at the line of defense. As the sails were now secure and the crew working together on the signal flags, he strode to the quarter deck and picked up the spyglass, directing his gaze towards the warship. His eyes narrowed and heart sunk.

“Atticus!!”

The man strode forward and took the spyglass James extended, following the line of his pointed finger towards the signal flag raised on the approaching warship.

“If I remember my naval signals correctly, that’s definitely a problem Atticus.”

Lowering the spyglass, he swore a string of curses that were mostly carried off into the storm, or else James might have learned a few new ones himself. He met James hardened gaze, and shook his head, then glanced towards the vessel and made a rude gesture, before clamping a hand on James shoulder and turning to leave. 

“Well, Captain Birmingham did warn us. I’ll tell ‘em Captain.” Striding towards the main deck, he blew three times on a whistle and all crew immediately stood at attention; their eyes on him.

“Men. Prepare to be boarded.”

~

In the Captains’ Cabin, Lorna was losing her fourth straight hand of sixty-six to Robert, when she noticed that the ship was not moving forward any longer, but bobbing and rocking unsteadily in one place. She paused in her shuffling and by the boy’s wide gaze, she knew he was now aware of their present situation as well. Trying to appear calm, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Dropping anchor is probably the best to wait out the storm, I would guess.” 

Robert, knowing dropping anchor in high waves during a storm was certainly not the best practice, offered a more practical solution that would still calm any nerves she might have.

“More likely they’ve just trimmed the sails ma’am; due to the winds and all. They’d just get all tangled any maybe ripped. Just ride the waves until the storm passes I imagine.”

Lorna nodded her head, impressed with all the boy had learned on the voyage. “Robert that is wonderful – how much you’ve learned.” Her hand reached across the table and covered his smaller one. “I’m sure James is equally impressed with your aptitude.”

“Oh well most of that is from Atticus. And French Bill. Some even from William.” Catching her narrowed frown, he quickly added. “Mr. Delaney is really good with navigation. Although, that’s proving a bit harder to learn I fear. Ya have to be real smart to learn it.”

She smiled softly and leaned back. “Well if it’s anything like how you play cards, I am sure you will be an expert in no time. Deal.”

As Robert took the cards and began to deal them upon the table, a shadow passed over the room. Glancing towards the bank of windows, the image of the huge warship coming upon the much smaller Good Hope filled their sight. Lorna’s face paled.

“Oh dear. That’s definitely not a wave.”

Just as Robert lay the last card upon the table, a knock sounded upon the door. At Lorna’s call, the door opened and in strode Pearle followed by Cholmondeley. Her questioning expression was all that was necessary, and Pearle’s pale face suggested the answer was not likely to be good.

Crossing to the decanter of Delaney’s finest and pouring himself a drink, the chemist swallowed half the contents before delivering the bad news.

“We are about to be boarded.”

~

James, Atticus and William stood upon the quarterdeck, watching silently as the two-masted, squared rigged warship moved into position just off their starboard bow. The creaking of wood as it rode the white crested waves and its hull cracked and peeling paint like a bad sunburn. The top mast appeared to have suffered some recent damage, but the ship still seemed most sea worthy; and intimidating. Certainly she had seen an amount of service during this war, and no doubt emerged the victor. The storm had begun to lessen its grip on the vessels and it was not long before a boarding party was rowing the distance between the two ships with little difficulty. Atticus leaned towards James shoulder.

“Looks about 18 guns… nine pounders I wager. Can see a carronade aft, suspect at least one more on the other side.”

James narrowed his gaze. “Are you fixing for a fight Atticus?”

The seaman lowered his head and chuckled, “No sir, unless you want to use some of that gunpowder safely stowed. Sure our chemist could mix something up in a jif.”

James turned, fixing the man with his brooding stare and tapping a finger upon his chest. “There will be no more talk of gunpowder … or things that go boom, hhhmm.”

The three men advanced forward to receive the boarding party. The Commander easily identifiable in his embroidered blue frock coat with white waist coat and white breeches. His hat was plain in the working style and he bore the single epaulette on his left shoulder that identified his rank. The several men who accompanied him wearing the blue frock coat with gold buttons and white breeches that bespoke their midshipmen position. The other notable gentlemen wearing the blue wool dress coat with the embroidered collar braid insignia of a Naval Surgeon. The Commander stood before the others, his gaze flicking back and forth between the three men before him, the crew assembled holding their breath, and a lingering gaze upon the signal flags before finally returning to the three men. Clearly attempting to discern which gentlemen he should greet as Captain. Atticus was easily and readily dismissed, and his gaze lingered on William a little longer than the others, as his dress and regal bearing suggested authority and seeming more fitting with a ship’s captain. Certainly more so than the stoic and brooding glare of the other man who wore his hat low over a piercing stare; one eye bearing a nasty scar. Unflinching, James met the Commander’s glare, while he noted the taller gentleman dropped his gaze. With certainty and unquestioning authority, he stepped directly in front of James, who slanted his head slightly to the side, gaze unwavering and waited.

“Commander George Augustus Westphal, _His Majesty’s Service Anaconda_ , in service out of Jamaica Station… Captain?”

James shifted slightly, knowing news of his name and deeds might have traveled to those Naval Stations of the West Indies already. He could only trust that their knowledge of the signals and Carlsbad’s word would hold. As always, he was brief and to the point, offering no more than what he was asked.

“James Keziah Delaney.” He then turned to introduce Atticus as his First Mate, and Lord William Andrew Johnston as a friend he was granting passage from the Azores to New Orleans. William did not miss the use of his full formal title. The Commander gazed upon William, eyes widened and he turned to address him directly.

“Lord Johnston? Perchance is your father Lord Randall Johnston, Earl of Hartfell and plantation owner in Barbados?”

William nodded his assent. “Yes Commander, Sir. My father is of whom you speak and he owns a distillery on the island in question.”

The Commander nodded his head fervently, “Yes, yes, fine brandy. Very fine indeed son.”

William inclined his head showing his thanks, “If it pleases you Commander, I have several crates aboard, you are most welcome to as a symbol of our respect…and gratitude.”

“Very generous of you my boy, very generous of you indeed and I will gladly accept your gracious offer.” The Commander looked once more to the signals flags and faced James once more. “Lucky it was that this infernal wind calmed down, or we would not have been able to decipher your signals. As it was, we were already more than half way alongside before we could verify. Thought I might as well come aboard Captain Delaney.”

James nodded and met his gaze, “Perhaps now that you can see that all is well, we can all be on our way again? Since I have cargo in need of reaching port in a timely manner.”

The Commander’s gaze narrowed, and he turned towards the man dressed in Naval Surgeon’s attire. “Certainly Captain Delaney, if you will but allow Doctor Joshua Horwood here to address any medical concerns that might exist? And ensure that are all aboard are healthy before we allow you to enter a very active and populated port such as New Orleans.”

James knew though it was uttered as a suggestion, it was nothing of the sort. He nodded and slightly bowed his acceptance. 

“We do travel with our own doctor Commander, perhaps Doctor Horwood would like to speak with him as well.”

The surgeon stepped forward, extending his hand to James, “That would be most helpful Captain Delaney, if you will have your men form an orderly line to await my inspection.” He glanced around the ship. “Is this the entire crew then Captain?”

James, seeing there was no way to keep Lorna and Robert hidden, shook his head. “No. There are several people staying dry from the storm in my cabin. The doctor you seek is also there.” He waved Godfrey forward. “My clerk can escort you, if you would like to start there first.”

Horwood nodded, “And the other occupants of the cabin?”

James hesitated and looked briefly away, considering his answer carefully; knowing the conclusion to be drawn, but that also it could not be avoided. “Two young woman, and a young boy.”

The doctor’s brow slightly furrowed. “Two women? Is one the mother of the child.”

“Step mother.”

“Ahhh, so Mrs. Delaney I presume then, yes? It will be my pleasure to see to the welfare of your wife and child Captain.” James nodded and said no more on the matter. “And is the other young woman a Governess then?”

“No, she is not.”

At the Doctor’s pressing look, he continued. “I think it best the lady speak to you of her circumstances personally Doctor. Perhaps in private?”

Understanding finally dawned in the Doctor Horwood’s eyes as he noted the number of men aboard and his mind quickly calculated how long they had likely been at sea for the voyage from England. 

“Yes, I see. Of course.” He turned towards Godfrey, “If you will lead the way good sir, we shall be about our business so that you may continue on your way without much more delay.”

William, seeking to establish some good rapport while they all waited the outcome of the medical inspection, addressed James.

“Perhaps the Commander would like a sample of some Johnston brandy while we wait, Captain?”

The Commander clapped him upon the back before James could give answer. “Fine idea lad. Most fine indeed.”

The men sipped their brandy on the quarter deck, all thankful for the respite from the rains, while the doctor conducted his examination of all aboard. William and Commander Westphal holding the majority of the conversation, while James sat in his typical stoic demeanor, only contributing when required. His mind drifting in and out and when Doctor Horwood returned with both Godfrey and Cholmondeley accompanying him, centered solely on Lorna and possible results of a medical examination. He was sure to have noticed her bullet wound scar, but James was also worried regarding another condition he might find concerning her. By how the doctor glanced his way often he knew what the man had to be thinking, but as to the exact nature of those thoughts, James could not decipher. After more than an hour, the doctor finally announced his examination complete and with no more than a few typical injuries and illnesses, the Good Hope was declared medically sound. He recommended to her Captain to hoist the signal flag indicating such, so as to avoid any possible further problems. If he had any comments regarding the Delaney family, he kept them to himself.

James was eager to get this British presence off his ship and be on his way, but Commander Westphal, as he calmly handed back an empty glass, had one more bombshell to drop.

“Excellent work as always Joshua. One last thing and we will be on our way Captain.”

James stood with narrowed gaze and an anxious rolling in the pit of his stomach. He could well guess his next statement.

“Joshua, I am going to need you to pick a few able bodied men to return to the Anaconda.” He turned with palm raised to James as he stepped forward to protest. “Ahh just wait Captain. Surely you know the Royal Navy is hard pressed to find enough men to sail her ships thanks to these blasted wars and their many blockades. I only require them temporarily and they shall be returned to you once replacements have arrived. Assuming they wish to return of course.” James frowned deeply and glared his displeasure. Several grunts emitted as he stood knowing full well he had little, if any recourse in the matter. 

“It is not far to port Captain, you should be fine continue to sail short several men. As I see that you have some young strong bodies capable of lending assistance for a short duration. Unless, you prefer to turn about… or receive an escort Captain Delaney?”

James replied through gritted teeth. “No, I would not.”

“Dandy then, I thought not sir. Then we shall be on our way. Good luck to you all.” 

The Commander and his party, including the addition of James three best sailors, took their leave. Despite the loss of the men, all heaved a sigh of relief when the HMS Anaconda left their starboard side and sailed towards the other Royal Navy ships to rejoin the line of defense. James turned to Godfrey requesting that he fetch Mrs. Delaney and the others from his cabin so that he could speak with all. When Lorna, Pearle and Robert arrived, he addressed the entire crew stating that they were going to spend the next hour giving an impromptu sailing lesson to those not already educated in such matters. He made a point of meeting both Lorna and Pearle’s gazes to assure they were indeed expected to remain on deck for the instruction. Pearle’s face paled somewhat and she turned to look at Lorna, who only lifted her chin a little higher and met James gaze without flinching. Robert had the best and most enthusiastic reaction to this news.

“Does that mean I can learn to actually sail now Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes Robert, it does.”

The boy gave a whoop of joy and immediately demonstrated his approval by running to the main mast and quickly scaling the rigging. The entire crew broke into laughter and cheered the lad onward, thus breaking the hours long tension that had settled aboard the crew. Even James could not hold back a smile and clapped his favour before addressing Atticus.

“Alright Atticus, basic sailing terminology is probably a good place to start. Get them started.”

Atticus nodded and commenced instruction without hesitation. James stepped forward and grasped Lorna’s arm on her way to join the others. He pulled her in close so that their words were not be overheard.

“You were examined by Doctor Horwood?”

She held his gaze and nodded.

“And?”

“All is well James. Nothing of any concern. He pronounced me fit and strong… though a bit lacking in nutrition, which is only to be expected during a long sailing voyage.”

“And this?” James ran a finger over the scar on her upper arm.

She bit her lip, hesitating in reply. At James prodding glare, she sighed deeply. “Of course he asked about it James –it’s clearly a gunshot wound. Obviously healed and no further threat.” Her gaze dropped. “He was mostly concerned that I was not in any current danger. From anyone aboard.” 

James took the implied meaning of her pointed look. “Ahh, meaning from a cruel husband?”

“Of which in reality is not possible, since you are neither, but I could not very well tell him that since he was lead to believe I am your wife. Again.” James also did not miss the implication behind this statement, but held his tongue. “I assured him I am very well protected and no longer need worry of that particular threat.”

James attempted to pull her closer, “Lorna, I know our circumstances are not conventional…”

She touched his arm, “James, I do not wish to discuss this in-depth here.” She kissed his cheek to soften the words. “For now, I am fine with our circumstances, but perhaps a little warning when I am expected to play the wife might be nice. If you’ll excuse me, I have to learn how to sail, and must admit, I am quite looking forward to it.”

Her smile as she stepped away reached straight to his heart. Yet again, she didn’t just wade, but jumped whole heartedly into the river and even looked forward to the crossing. Her strength continually set him back, though he should have ceased his surprise long ago. She not only continually hoped for the best, she actively pursued its outcome. As he watched her join the others, arm coming around Robert’s shoulders as he stood at her side gazing up with unabashed adoration, the thought came unbidden: _why wasn’t she his wife?_

~

A light shower had begun once more as the seasoned crew shared their expertise with the novices until all were too wet and chilled to continue even holding a grasp upon the ropes and rigging. Everyone was in need of a break to consume some sustenance and get warm and dry. James and Lorna returned to their cabin, dropping Robert off at his own with instruction to seek some rest since the boys’ enthusiasm had not waned in the slightest despite being soaked to the bone and shivering blue lips. Once inside James stoked his small stove to ward off their own chill and they discarded their wet clothing, placing them over a chair to dry in the spreading heat. Lorna donning just a wrap and James clad in only breeches he had shorted to deal with the heat and humidity. He sank with an exhausted groan into another chair, his head in his hands and rubbing his brow. Sensing his worrying mind, Lorna fixed a drink and brought it to him, laying another kiss upon his cheek.

“You did it James.”

His eyes raised and he pulled her close with a free hand, his gaze showing the doubts that lay unspoken.

“You got us here – just as you promised. We’re half way there.”

His head rested upon her stomach. “No, **we** did it my love.” His eyes sought hers, the brimming wetness building in the corners. “I could not have done it without you. I should have told you that more often.”

He pulled her down upon his lap, their foreheads leaning upon the other, until his gentle kiss upon her brow traveled down to seek her mouth. The kiss quickly deepening and the fire leaping between them. Her hands ran all over the chilled expanse of his chest and James reached inside her wrap to caress her bare breasts; spreading the material to ease his fondling. Her legs moved to wrap around his waist bringing her naked center into contact with the hardening length felt through the thin material of the breeches. With a groan, he leaned forward to place his drink upon the nearby table so he could better grasp her now rocking hips. His fingers brushed against the signal flag cards she had placed there for further study. He quickly searched through the pile.

“Let’s see how much you’ve learned today love.” His fingers found the card he was seeking and held it up for her keen study. Her eyes narrowed as she searched her memory and then widened when she found the answer. A deep groan escaped and she shook her head at his sensual smirk.

“Really James? _Permission to come aboard?_ Awful attempt at seduction.” But she had trouble holding back her own smile.

 _Tsk, Tsk, Tsk._ “Find your card Lorna, or suffer hostile response. I told you I’d punish you for those dragon and blade remarks.” His teasing gaze and hands pulling her pelvis against his own, while his lips traveled across her collarbones and making any resistance futile.

She rolled her eyes, but leaned over the table to shuffle through the scattered cards. Biting her lip, she realized she cannot remember the appearance of the card she is seeking. Her gaze lifts to his and he chuckles softly. With a perturbed huff of air she rises and leans over the table for one last attempt, but she simply cannot remember. His eyes hold a measure of gleeful anticipation as he thinks of all the ways his “takeover” will unfold. 

“I don’t need your cursed cards James.” And she cast the wrap off to fall upon the floor, and stood naked before him. His eyes drawn to where her nipples stood erect and begging for his mouth, and he sucked a gulp of air in deep. Meeting her challenging gaze, he launched out of the chair without warning and scooped her up over his bare shoulder. 

“Muaah. Close enough love.”

He quickly carried her across the room, and odd mixture of laughter and a few pained _ompfhs_ emitted from her with each jostled bounce of his step. He tossed her upon the bed, where she scooted backwards against the wall, eyes fixed on the bold blade that got her in trouble with this dragon lover, as he quickly vested himself of the breeches. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Her bottom lip still held between small even teeth, “That depends James… remind me again exactly how you intend to punish me?”

James leaned forward, grasped the trim ankles and yanked her bare bottom forward to the edge of the bed. Kneeling upon the edge, his hands gripped her hips as he teased the velvet smooth head of his shaft along her silky folds. Sinking slowly in as he leaned his weight gently upon her and his warm mouth covered a supple breast. Her gasp and immediate response to wrap legs tight about him, drawing him in deeper to spur his attentions along… and freezing his mind. His head raised from teasing and sucking an erect nipple.

“I don’t always know what I’m doing Lorna…. I’m going to make this up as I go along. You might want to just hold on.”

Her jaw hung slack, seeing the undisguised passion in his eyes and her hands entwined within the tangled sheets when he began thrusting his ardor deep inside her. His pace was unrelenting; entirely without mercy concerning her breathless responses. Taking her over the edge repeatedly, and still not slowing his pace. How he held on through three intense orgasms, she had no idea. But she knew if this was his idea of _punishment?_ She’d gladly commit the crime again. And again.

If only she could gather her senses and wit long enough against the force of his incredible lovemaking to gather a worthy response. Instead, she did as she was told and with no regret, just held on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HMS Anaconda (formerly an American vessel captured by Westphal) and its Commander Westphal were in fact stationed at Jamaica Station during the War of 1812. They would later be an integral part of the Battle of New Orleans at the end of the war. The surgeon Doctor Joshua Horwood also was in service to the royal Navy, although I have taken the liberty of altering his posting.
> 
> In addition, the practice of enlisting men from British merchant ships into service for the Royal Navy during the War of 1812 was indeed practiced. Frequently. As they were hard pressed for seamen while fighting two wars and conducting numerous blockages on both continents.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Good Hope sails through the calm night towards the entrance of the mighty Mississippi River. 
> 
> And it's been raining for three solid days and I was in the mood for some sweet and sexy fluff. You're welcome.
> 
> Though I do wonder if Lorna is as attuned to certain mystical things now as James...

The night crew kept a steady vigil as the ship sailed onward, though everywhere their eyes touch only endless midnight blue could be seen as the night sky merged with the rolling waves. All breathed a sigh of relief for the calm weather, knowing well the violent storms that could appear during this time of year. While the ship sailed gently forth, inside the Captain’s Cabin only one occupant rested as peacefully.

The air smelled rich with the scent of flora and fauna and the water felt cool as she took that first step. It’s dank dampness sinking into her skin even as the hem of her skirt drank up its waters. The stench of the reeds decaying in the shallows breathed in like a suffocating vapour. Her breathe held with each careful step forward; the growing weight of her wet dress slowing her progress. A slippered foot sank deep in the mud and she felt its pull downward and knew a moments panic. Lorna tossed fitfully upon the bed; a tossed elbow rousing James to semi wakefulness when it landed upon his shoulder. In her dream, the river reached to her waist, but the pull of urgency propels her forward. Heart thumping in her chest and praying that the unseen depths will remain shallow. Eyes peering through the dense forest for just a glimpse to reassure her pounding heart. A deep exhale as the middle is reached. Breathing deep once more, a foot lifted and placed forward and suddenly there is no bottom. The water rushing over her head just as the sound of a shot rings out; scattering fowl of water and air alike. Twisted in the bed sheets, Lorna tossed and turned.... _too late, too late… is he gone?_ Her feet kicking in desperation and his own yelp brings James fully alert as one small foot connects painfully with his shin. 

“What the hell?”

His eyes narrowed a glance at her twisting body and arms flung above, and he lay a gentle hand upon her shoulder; calling her name. 

Her head breached the surface, mouth gaping wide to draw in a huge lungful of air. Eyes darting about the forest as she tread water in the cool depths; reeds tangling about her feet. Tears and slimy water droplets fall down her cheeks and her lungs burst forth with a choking sob spitting foul swampy spit back into the water. With determined strokes she made for the nearby shore. Until the silent woods once again was breached by another shot. 

Lorna bolted upright in bed, the scream tore from her throat and arms and legs kicking wildly. James sought desperately to both calm her fright and dodge thrashing limbs; but fared poorly on both counts. Another elbow connecting harshly with his jaw. Finally, as much to preserve his own body, he crossed to the foot of the bed, straddling her entangled legs with his own weight and grasped her firmly by the shoulders, giving one firm shake. 

“Lorna!!”

Eyes still closed, but her head swiveled towards his own, her smooth brow wrinkled and lips mumbling. “Too late. Too late… he’s gone.”

“Lorna, open your eyes. Look at me.” His hands moved up to grasp on either side of her face. “I’m here love.”

Her eyes slowly slid open, wild and full of fear. But worse, that spark he usually saw diminished. A strangled cry released as her body stilled its fight, but still trembled beneath him. Her voice a hoarse squeak.  
“James. The river was too deep. I couldn’t cross… shots…”

His head shook back and forth. “No love it wasn’t. You crossed it remember? You were there with me.”

The scent of bonfire smoke circled about them, mixed with the acrid and sour scent of a spent pistol. The gypsy woman’s fire. Warmth spreading on her chilled wet skin. Her head shook, memory trying to reach through the hold of the nightmare; eyes still searching his own. James reached down and took her hand, placed it across his heart beating strong and true. 

“Remember love. See… you were not too late. It was just a dream.”  
“A dream?”  
“Yes, just a dream.” His finger pointed towards the bank of windows where the moonlight shone upon the rolling waves. “See.” 

Her eyes lifted and her breath began to steady as once again the slow pitch of the ship was felt beneath them. She turned back towards him, relief flooding her entire body as she sank into the warmth of his own. His arms wrapped around to hold her tight, and her head nestled upon the smooth expanse of his strong chest. Fingers absently tracing the dark markings, until feeling a calm restored, she raised her head.  
“You’re here and you’re alive.”

He smiled softly and kissed her brow. “Yes, very much so.” Her body trembled in a soft shiver once more and he nuzzled the tender skin of her neck. “Do you need further proof of my being able bodied?”

Her head turned to find his mouth, brushing soft lips against his own and he felt the slight nod of her head. Pulling her down to lay beside him, his fingers began their own tracing of pale, soft flesh. Taking his time on each exposed piece of skin and bringing new shivers to rise along its soft lines. His mouth pressing warm kisses in a dozen secret places he’d never touched before and drawing a small gasp with each new sensation. Finally pulling her night shift over her head so he can have access to every sweet, soft inch revealed. Taking his time until her breath quickened in a new way and he pulled her beneath his body. Hips rolling gently upon her own - sliding his hardness along the soft folds for what seemed an eternity of blissful torture. Her bud swollen and aching for release before his throbbing shaft even penetrated her body. The delicious waves rolling over her and she moved her hips to match his rhythm. Wetness seeping between them and easing the gliding motion until one long reach back of his hips and the next stroke glided deep inside; burying him in her wet warmth to the hilt. His groan long and deep, still caught unaware by the incredible tight sensation she envelops about him. The way their bodies move together still catching his breath every time. 

Tonight she is clinging to him. The last vestiges of fear and doubt brought by the nightmare still sinking their barbs deep. She who has never asked him for anything. Never lain her troubles at his feet. Never doubted his word for a single moment. Now clutching him in the dark as though all the world lay hung in shrouds, and terrified to let him go. This lingering shadow holding her back from experiencing the depth of his love, though he kept his strokes slow and deep. Holding back, knowing she needs more from him this night. Laying his weight gently over her, one arm wrapped lovingly around her head so he can kiss and murmur his love close. He could feel the breath held within, the clench of her teeth grinding in frustration. Grasping her hands, he sat upright and pulled her up close against his hard chest, his mouth fastening on the tender skin of her throat. Shifting her onto his lap while keeping himself seated deep and tight. Her hands threaded in a painful grip of his hair, and a last hitching sob escaped before her head dropped to his shoulder and she stilled upon him. His hands caressed the long length of her back, coming to grasp her head gently and lift it to meet his gaze. His lips softly brushing and the whisper barely heard though he spoke it to her soul.

“My Love, let it go.”

Her body broke into muffled sobs that shook her slender frame, and in his mind flashed all the things she had done for him since that fateful first meeting. Not once had she ever let him down. Or refused to offer him solace and company when no one else showed a care. And not once had she broken before him; not like this. Could it only have been five short months ago that he never knew what real love felt like, let alone how deep it could go? How big a hurt it could heal. It was her that taught him love could cover over a multitude of wrongs, and that’s all he knew to do this night. Cover her in his love. He held her so tight, he feared he would crush her, but no complaint passed her lips. His mouth found hers and slowly the hitches of breath were silenced beneath the force of his kisses. Slowly she began to respond back, her tongue darting with his own. The passion building quickly once again. Her hips starting a slow rotation that gradually built in force and tempo until she was bucking against him. The wetness seeping down to coat their thighs and sweat lighting upon their skin pressed close. 

“That’s it love. Come with me.”

He plunged inside, keeping time with the rocking of her own hips and smiled into the curve of her shoulder when she began moaning his name. Feeling the flutters and clenching pulling him deeper and deeper until he cried out in pleasure at the havoc her exploding climax wrought upon his throbbing cock. He felt her insides shatter upon him, his own climax throwing his head back in an insane convulsing release that had his eyes rolling back in his head as he now clung to her in desperation. She kept moving upon his still pulsing member and with surprise he felt her walls quivering and clenching once again and her nails dug deep into his shoulders. A single _fuck_ shouted to the ceiling when he realized she was coming again and that this exquisite pulling on his still thrusting shaft was not going to end until she was finished. Christ he was still hard as a rock and he was pretty sure he was going to come again if she kept bouncing on him. The heat traveled down his spine and into his balls and with a loud moan he grasped her hips and bucked deep and long into her softness. Already in the throes of her own climax, her whimpering cries turned him on like nothing he had ever heard before. The sultry tones twisting and playing upon him as powerfully as her body. The power of her orgasm gripped him tight and within seconds he was pouring another hot release deep inside her, and rasping in her ear how nothing had ever felt as good as her, and nothing ever would. That nothing about her was poorly timed. Not ever.

With loud exhales and a few curses, they both collapsed upon the bed. Both on their sides and gasping for breath. James stretched and felt the stitch in his side and shook his head as she smiled in wonder back at him.

“Did you…”  
“Yes.”  
“Has that ever happened before?”  
“No.”  
“Really? So… only me?”  
His hand reached out and tucked the wayward curl off her cheek. Thumb lingering to caress along the soft curve and trailing down across her mouth.   
“There’s a lot of _only’s_ with you my love.”

He kissed her long and soft, and then shifted to his back to ease the still gnawing ache in his side. She rested beside him for a few minutes, before leaning up on an elbow to gaze down at him. His hand lifted again, brushing through the cascading curls that curtained about them.

“James… sorry about your jaw.”

He fingered it lightly, felt the tender spot. “Muaah, so you were aware of that.”

Her shoulders hunched up to her ears and she bite her bottom lip with mild chagrin. “I didn’t mean to… I was so scared and everything was dark…”

He placed a finger on her lips, not wanting to see her return to the terror of the dream. “It’s alright love.” A wry smile twisted his lips and he shrugged also. “There’s probably a few women that would say I had it coming.” At her raised brow he quickly added, “That we will not be discussing at this late hour.”

She laughed and playfully landed her knuckles softly along his jaw again, but he grabbed her arm and pulled it down upon his chest. Their hands clasped over the strong beat of his heart. She kissed the raised scar that ran along his collarbone and then upon the tender jawline, whispering softly.

‘Thank you James.”  
He raised slightly to meet her gaze, his brows lifted. 

“For being here for me tonight. I don’t normally have bad dreams. I can’t imagine what caused it, but I feel a sense of foreboding now….. I fear I won’t be able to shake it.”

His voice was thick with emotion and he touched the tip of her nose gently. “You don’t want James Delaney to die… and you know, clever girl, there will be a price on his head when his feet touch American soil.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but there was no way he could ease the pain of that truth. It was just another river they would have to cross. And he had no doubts they would do it together. He pulled her close, his voice deep and low against her hair.

“No more worries and fears tonight… mmmm? Because I don’t think I have another round in me after that one.”

She laughed out loud and kissed him full on the lips. “I love you James.”

“Then I will leave this world at whatever time a man happy to have such a great gift.” He pulled her in for another deep kiss. “I love you too.”

She smiled softly and to his surprise tears began to fall down her cheeks. His brow wrinkled in confusion but before he could speak, she lay a palm upon his cheek, her voice catching.  
“That’s the thing James, you seem to think it’s just me giving something to you. A gift?” Her head shook softly back and forth. “James, you’re the only person who has ever loved me too.”

She lay her head back upon his chest, while the impact of her words were akin to a direct hit upon his heart. He had spent many weeks thinking himself so undeserving, that he never considered he gave something in return. He was too damaged. Too past saving. Too much …. Delaney. He’d been broken for so long and the healing brought almost as much pain as the breaking that came first. But he was healing. Day by day gaining a little more control. A little more stable in his core. Somehow she had found the best parts of him and each day they emerged a little less fearful of walking about in this strange new world. To think he was also doing the same for her? His mind couldn’t quite grasp it yet, but he felt the surge of confidence swell within him. Somehow love had gotten the better over his own foolish tendencies. 

The soft breathing against his bare chest told him she was sleeping peacefully now. His eyes registered the gray mauve tones filtering upon the wood floor as a new dawn approached. He could possibly get another couple of hours sleep before hauling his tired ass up to deck. His mind wrestling with rising now as they should be nearing the river entrance soon if the ship made good time in the night. Holding her close, he can’t quite bring himself to leave her side, warm and soft as it felt pressed against him. Now that he knew he could offer her support, he wanted to be close should any night mare return. At least until the bright sunshine chased away the lingering shadows. Pulling the covers over them, his head dropped to lean against her own giving a final squeeze upon the hand he still held, he drifted back into his own dreams.

~

The sudden opening of the door roused her from the bed with a start. Her eyes slowly blinking to adjust to the light, and the dark form within the doorway. Knowing only James would enter without a warning, she smiled brightly, instantly recalling their union from the previous night. A good restful sleep nestled close in his arms had done wonders for chasing any lingering fears away. His face beamed from the doorway, but he said nothing, so she waited with the covers half pressed against her bare breasts. His eyes dipped briefly to the rounded creamy orbs and he shut the door behind him with a solid bang. Crossing quickly over to stand beside the bed. 

He had come to their room to quickly drag her up on deck to see the mighty expanse of the river as they approached. Now, seeing her look so damn irresistible with her tousled hair and sleepy eyes, not to mention knowing she was naked under the covers; he thought they might have a few moments to tarry. Her soft gaze up at him making no effort to conceal her desire was added to the list of reasons to remain, and without another moment pause he sank upon the bed pressing her into the mattress. He’d never grow tired of hearing her soft laugh whenever his passions got the best of him and he couldn’t resist her charms. He loved that it was a natural way between them, and not a forced or contrived play. His hands were already roaming over her naked flesh, so warm and she yelped and twisted beneath him from the coldness of his hands. He pressed her down with his weight and laid a hand on each side of her ribs and she squealed with a gasp. 

“James your hands are freezing!”   
“Mmmm, yes I want to warm them up. It will help if you lay still.”

They pressed beneath her and circled around to clasp her back, the sudden cold contact arching her naked front even closer to him. He leered down and winked at her withering glare.   
“Smooth sir.”  
“Aahmm.”

His mouth ceased any further protests and he groaned deep when her fingers were already plying the fastenings of his trousers and pushing inside to grasp his hard wood. Sounds coming from the passageway stilled her inquisitive fingers and his mind chanted _no no no fuck no._ Their eyes met and to his own shame he still considered pushing onward, his dick throbbing so bad he knew it would take about three thrusts inside her warm, tight space and he’d be coming hard. _So much for those gentle, loving thoughts earlier._ Her eyes met his and son of a bitch if he didn’t get that flicker between them giving the go ahead loud and clear. Her hand pulling his trousers further down and he sprang free instantly; rubbing against her already slick folds. He groaned deep when her eyebrows wiggled in time with her hips and he wasn’t waiting a second longer as the footsteps advanced towards their door. He plunged inside and set a thrusting pace that snatched her breath away. His gaze holding her own, the promise clear that he will make this up to her. His mouth clamped shut to silence his grunts as his hips slammed into her own. The knock sounded upon the door and he heaved upwards, every muscle strained and held taut while she still rolled her hips beneath his now stilled ones drawing his climax out. He was pretty sure he tasted blood in his mouth from biting down to silence his moan of pleasure. _So he had lasted about a dozen thrusts. Nothing to be proud of, but still better than three._ Another knock and he sprang from the bed on wobbly legs and was attempting to fasten his trousers as he crossed to the door, growling _just a damn minute_ before he turned back and tossed a wink and mouthed “I love you” to the huddled form in the bed.   
The door opened to reveal Atticus standing with a not too subtle smirk playing about his lips. 

“Captain.”  
“Atticus.”  
“Will you be joining us again today?”  
“I might.”  
“Might I expect when Sir?”  
“When I get there Atticus.”

The First Mate peeked over his shoulder to find Lorna’s hand clamped over her mouth and the not so subtle shaking of her shoulders. Bare shoulders. 

“Good morning Mrs. Delaney. A fine beautiful day to sail into port.”  
“Morning Atticus, you don’t say? We have arrived then?”  
A pointed look at James, “Almost ma’am. The Mississippi River is just ahead and we will need someone to guide us through to reach the port. A River Guide would be ideal, but for now a Captain who has sailed before.……”  
“Point made Atticus. I’ll be along momentarily.”  
Atticus nodded his head. “Good then Sir, I’ll be back to my duties then.”

The man made to turn away as James was closing the door, and then turned back suddenly, his gaze dropping to James crotch.   
“Ahh, Sir… ahem, James -- before you come up on deck you might want …..” 

He made a motion at his own crotch demonstrating a fastening motion and James glanced down and then grunted. Closing his own trousers while he rolled his eyes at the departing back of the man. James spun around to spy a lump in the bed shaking suspiciously like laughter and striding over, took a moment to consider the form. Then brought his hand down smartly over what should be a shapely butt check. The started “oohh James!” from beneath the covers testified to his accuracy. Her head came out from beneath the sheets and fixed him with a stony glare. 

“Huh! Last time I am so accommodating when you come in here all rutting like a stag!” 

Suitably chastised, he took her hand and kissed its palm. “You are correct my love, most ungentlemanly of me considering your giving nature this morning.” He pulled her up against him and teased her lips softly. “I will make it up to you later in a cozy Inn bed with down covers and a roaring fire. And a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.”  
Her brows lifted. “Really?”  
He grunted against the curve of her breasts peeking from where the sheet was loosely tucked. She kissed his cheek and he captured her mouth in a kiss that sealed the promise and left her dizzy. “You sir are forgiven then.”

James hopped up from the bed. “Good, then make yourself ready, for dry land awaits. You will want to see as we sail up the river, it’s truly something to behold.”

A sense of eagerness pulsed through her whole body – a new city to explore! – and she leaped from the bed strolling naked to where her clothing was neatly stored. James stood like a man sucking wind, watching the fine curve of her ass wiggling and the sway of her hips, hardly believing he was stirring in his breeches again when he just had her not ten minutes prior. She glanced over her shoulder to find him staring wide eyed and slack jawed; her perky breasts silhouetted against the sun filtering in the windows. 

“James? Aren’t you going?”

_Hhhmm._ Though his feet remained firmly planted and his eyes unblinking. She turned to face him and his entire mouth went dry and he was sure if he didn’t leave right now – he would not be leaving for hours. His mind quickly calculated that it would take at least four hours to navigate the mighty Mississippi. _Hhmmm. A River Guide sounded a good plan right about now._ Instead, he gave her a brief nod and turned his back on the fetching sight. Just as he reached the door, he paused and turned back.

“Have you ever had a café au lait?”  
She paused and then shook her head. “I don’t think so, why?”  
He grunted and made a motion to get dressed quickly.   
“A beignet?”  
She poked her head out from beneath a shift. “A what?” He simply smiled, feeling an anticipation to show her the city sweeping through him. “James, you do remember that I’ve never been here before, right?”  
“Hhmm. Then hurry and get ready so I can show you.”  
She huffed aloud and tossed a pair of hosiery in his direction. “Then stop asking me questions and I will.”

James chuckled and quickly dashed out the door before anything else became airborne in his direction. Once he had left, Lorna thoughtfully considered her meagre wardrobe. _Beignet?_ She searched her memory for the brief details Godfrey had previously given, but her mind kept switching to some of the more daring things that Cholmondeley had told them about the city of New Orleans.   
Oh dear. Given James amorous bent this morning, she suddenly was not sure how to dress at all. 

What did one wear to _cough ole_ anyway? 

That gloomy sense of foreboding came again, prickling her naked skin into goosebumps. However thoughts of strolling arm in arm with James down lively city streets and then snuggling against his warm naked flesh at the end of the day quickly chased any bad thoughts away.

Shame on her for worries and doubts: life was finally sailing smooth.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mighty Mississippi, New Orleans, and James always repays his debts. 
> 
> There is a quite a bit of historical information in this chapter, since they are sailing into one of the most important ports of American history. In addition, at the time of James arrival, the Battle of New Orleans is mere weeks away, and thus the conclusion of the War of 1812 (though they will only discover that after the battle) is very near. So much about New Orleans is soon to change.
> 
> Don’t worry, there is still NSFW content. Because it’s me. ;)

The boy’s excitement was a contagious entity that pulsed and penetrated through each occupant of the vessel as it sailed closer to the mouth of the mighty river. Lorna stood rooted to her position, a long buntline carefully threading through her gloved hands but her eyes were warily watching Robert as he practically skipped along the ratlines and out onto the yard to stow a sail. The ship was trimming sail to slow down as the passage drew closer; in addition to several smaller boats that were making their way towards her. Her gaze then swiveled towards James, who was currently giving her a mixture of both sailing and Mississippi River history lessons, and silently questioned his calm acceptance of allowing the boy to work so high aloft.

“One of the most treacherous waters I’ve ever sailed. About 100 miles and I’ve recalculated according to this SouthWest passage about seven hours of navigating sharp twists, turns, hidden sandbars and more than a few sunken wreckage’s I’d guess by now.” He glanced down with raised eyebrow to see if his words had caused any fear, but it was clear any current worry was intently focused on Robert’s progress. Instead of his words, or more importantly the buntline in her hands. Holding his own clewline in one hand, he reached over and adjusted her grip to allow some slack and continued on with his lesson. “Not to mention ships becoming caught in _sea jelly._ ”

Her head turned towards him. “Jelly? I assume I don’t want this with my hard tack?”

James chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless you are fond of a thick black mulch with your breakfast.”

Lorna shuddered and her gaze once again turned skyward. James once again handling both their lines to assist the boy’s efforts. 

“You know I was not much older than he when I first learned to sail.” Her narrowed gaze met his. “You know learning to sail – that thing you’re also supposed to be doing right now?” He adjusted her line once again, and sighing she took hold and tried to reclaim her focus.

“Sorry James. If you’re asking me to stop worrying, it’s akin to asking me to stop caring. I think we both know that’s an impossible task for me.”

He grunted softly, but she caught the mumbled words. “Yes, much like sailing.”

Their gazes met and she reached up and fingered the light bruise on his jaw. James eyes narrowed, recalling the merciless ribbing he had taken at the breakfast table earlier that morning. Seeing the humour play about her face he couldn’t help but smirk in reply. Though he knew in his heart what a blessed feeling it was to be loved so much that one worried about your welfare. She only knew one way to love and it was exactly how she lived; with all of her heart and soul. That she loved the boy she knew so little about, without question, touched him deeper than she would ever know. He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her mouth, bringing a faint blush to her cheeks. Feeling a pull on their lines, they both glanced up to catch Robert watching them with a huge grin on his face and tugging the lines to direct their attention to his completed task. Though it was clear the grin was for entirely different reasons than ships and sails.

They secured the lines they held, James patiently demonstrating the proper hitch knot once again, making her do it twice, before securing his own line. They heard the soft thud of Robert’s feet hitting the deck behind them as he jumped down from the mast. The boy wasted no time running to a side of the boat and leaning towards the waters below.

“They’re almost here Mr. Delaney.” 

James walked over to the port side of the ship and joined Robert, gazing out over the stretch of water that was fast turning from the clear Caribbean azure shade they had grown accustomed, to a murky, muddy shade of brown. His brow furrowed as he considered the quickly approaching vessels, clearly in a race against one another to be the first to reach his ship. He turned to Lorna who also gazed with curiosity at them, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the noonday sun on the water. 

“River pilots.” He grunted. “More like pirates. Most probably don’t know the river any better than I do.”

“Then why do we wait for them to reach us?”

James shook his head and looked to the sun. “It will be dark by the time we sail the river to the port of New Orleans. With the shifting sand bars, it is better to have a guide.” He sighed deeply. “Let’s hope one of these is as accurately informed as he is fast.”

Atticus joined him and raised a brow, considering the first boat that was rowing alongside The Good Hope. “What do you think James?”

James face dissolved into the brooding mask of old, “I think we will speak with each one. And I will know who lies and who speaks truth.”

Atticus nodded and the two, joined shortly by William who had assisted Robert in securing another sail, crossed to receive the first pilot. James briefly resting a hand on Lorna’s lower back before striding away. She stood with the boy as the ship slowly entered the passage, marveling at the great width of the river. They watched as the waters changed to a torrid brown filled with silt and debris, exchanging looks that bespoke the stench that also arose. The scent calling forth the brackish scent of the river in her nightmare and Lorna shivered even in the midday heat. From where he stood James caught the movement and a look of concern briefly crossed his features. Seeing her and the boy marvel as they watched a flock of birds take flight, he deemed it a passing moment and turned his attention back to the shifty eyed pilot. Lorna’s eyes continued trying to scan both sides of the river at the same time for more water fowl, hoping to recognize any from Horace’s drawings. Her eyes darted every now and then to where James, Atticus and William conversed with all three pilots that had now reached the ship and were presenting their best pitch. Having seemingly settled on the boat that had reached them second, much to the disagreement of the first arrival. Lorna saw James step close to the man, his hand raised and she knew his voice would drop so low as to not be carried forth on the wind, but would send a chill through to the man’s bones. The vivid scar he bore on his eye adding to the imposing figure he made. She smiled softly as the two men deemed unworthy slunk back to their boats, faces considerably paler. _He’s a dangerous man you know,_ she thought with a chuckle. _Only to some._ She smiled when he glanced over and slowly shook her head. He merely raised a brow and followed Atticus and the newly hired pilot towards the stern of the boat to discuss the sailing of the river with Bill as their capable helmsman.

~

After hours spent upon the deck watching the progress up the river, the sweltering heat drove many to seek a few hours out of the sun. Not even the sight of more fowl, lush vegetation, or the odd sighted alligator tempted those not required on deck to brave the heavy humidity. James came to the cabin twice for a dry shirt before simply giving up and opting for no shirt at all. At which point Lorna braved a brief stroll around the deck just “to stretch my legs.” Her eyes watching the bronzed muscles of his lean figure and finding it far more interesting than anything the river sights offered. The sailors soon following their Captain’s lead and stripping down to just their breeches and Godfrey appeared from the galley with tall mugs of chilled wine for both of them. The two managed to secure a shady spot out of the way where they could admire the encompassing views. It was William alone who still stood seemingly impervious to the heat in his full dress, balancing upon the ratlines with practiced ease. 

Staying close to William as he traversed a shroud higher, Robert also bare from the waist up still climbed about the rigging: and still causing moments of anxiety for Lorna. The constant darting of her eyes between the boy and James rippling muscles a battle of wills concerning where to concentrate her gaze. Godfrey not helping matters by pointing out how much deeper James tan had become in only a few short days. Sweat beaded on her brow, upper lip and formed an uncomfortable pool in the bodice of her dress as the hours passed. Due to the parched state of her own throat, she realized the men must be fair dying of thirst at this point and rose to seek out refreshments in the galley; thinking Cholmondeley and Pearle the wisest of all aboard for remaining in the lower deck. James eyes followed her as she crossed the deck. Noting the clinging of her gown in areas dampened by sweat. The curls she had piled high in effort to control the mass in the humidity escaping to frame her newly suntanned face. His gaze studied her so intently he was sure he could count the light dusting of freckles across her nose. Lorna pausing to feast her eyes on him before descending the ladder to the galley and their gaze held for the briefest of moments, but long enough to set off a charge felt by all who witnessed. His eyes glanced over to the ladder repeatedly until she returned, holding a big bucket and a ladle. His dry lips parted in anticipation and he thanked whoever was listening for her thoughtfulness and kindness towards his hard working crew. Though she approached her Captain with the first sampling of the cool beverage.

His eyes watched every step she took towards him until she stood close enough only he could hear her words.

“May I offer you a taste sailor?”

Expecting a singular grunt, her cheeks flamed immediately at his rasped reply. “What’s this, a comely serving wench here to wet my whistle?”

His hand reached out and covered her own as they dipped the ladle in the chilled wine and raised it to his lips. Her eyes fastened on the pillowy plumpness of his bottom lip. The drops of wine that escaped and ran down over the bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallowed, lingering in the hollow of his throat the briefest of seconds before trailing all the way down his firm chest and into the furred hair disappearing into his breeches. Lorna’s gaze following every single drop until finally the grunt she had been expecting pulled her gaze to his own amused expression. She arched a brow and rose on her toes to whisper against his ear.

“And how tastes my milk of Venus?” *

James eyes widened and he suffered a momentarily sputtered coughing. Gathering himself quickly before gaining the attention of his men, he turned cool lips and pressed them to her neck, his voice a guttural growl.

“Delicious madam, but I find it not cooling to my ardor. Or perhaps it is the naughty tongued wench who plies me with its temptation, hhmm.”

She pulled back and spooned another ladle, raising it to his lips. “Perhaps another sample. Before the heat overcomes and I find you stretched out upon the boards beneath me.”

James sipped the offered wine and then swore softly under his breath as he considered the teasing smirk upon her face and her gaze from beneath heavy lidded eyes. He leaned in close, one hand dipping low to caress over a curve of her hip. 

“Have mercy madam, these summer breeches do not leave much to the imagination, let alone hide any rising interests.”

Her eyes dipped low, “Yes, I have noticed.”

His mouth grazed her cheek, “Hmmm, why don’t you return to your shady spot and you can continue to notice to your heart’s content. I will bring the wine to the men.” He straightened, gaze burning into her own. “Or perhaps a brief respite from the heat in your chambers would serve you well. You may find the rest beneficial for our evening later at the Inn.” He leaned close once more. “I have not forgotten I am in your debt my lady.”

James stepped back and with a parting wink proceeded to take the bucket around to the men, while Lorna stood with mouth ajar feeling the heat flaming upon her cheeks…. And all the way down to her toes. It was a rather stiff legged, dazed walk that returned her to the spot of shade where Godfrey still rested; having witnessed the entire exchange between the lovers. She slowly sank to the deck beside him and her eyes followed James progress around the ship. A soft sigh escaped.

“Perhaps I may return to my cabin to seek some relief from this heat.”

Trying to conceal his smile as he quipped, “Honey, I cannot imagine why you would ever leave your cabin.”

Lorna rose and cast him a perturbed glare, but as both their eyes once again landed on the toned, tanned and banded figure of the man; she could only groan aloud and spinning on her heel strode towards the cabin. Godfrey did a silent countdown in his head – mightily impressed that James waited the full ten seconds before he abandoned his bucket and made to follow.

~

The sun was hanging lower in the sky offering a measure of relief from the heat of the day, when all were gathered on deck as the long sail finally brought them within the view of the sights of the growing port. Plantations could be seen along the banks of the river, their vastness sweeping in varied colours across the landscape. Lorna’s fingers sought James as they passed each one, knowing that slavery was well established here as well. All watched with great fascination as several steam paddleboats, the very first of their kind, also traversed the river; stopping at several docks along the banks. William in particular showed great interest in the wood constructed boots that easily navigated the shallower waters an ocean faring ship could not. Such a vessel would certainly make it easier to navigate up the river into the mainland – and loaded with his family’s distillery product. The men all eagerly discussed the merits of this new invention they had only previously heard rumor regarding. Soon the great oaks that dotted the manicured lawn of _Chalmette Plantation_ passed into view, their place in history not yet marked. 

The Bywater district with more large plantations but also beginning to show signs of residential development, slowly passing by the ships stern and the heart of the city, the French Quarter came into view. As the sun dipped lower in the early evening of the season, light baskets were hung over the side of the ship to help navigate the shallow waters in the approaching dusk. James and his men exchanging silent and apprehensive glances knowing the amount of gunpowder aboard, and keeping vigilant eyes for any wayward sparks. The Meat Market with its colourful stands could barely be seen, although the majority of vendors had closed their stalls for the day. Finally the grand St. Louis Cathedral rose spectacular in the waning light, its Spanish colonial structure and side towers viewed with awe. In front, the militarized _Plaza de Armas,_ surrounded it in a lush green setting, although Cholmondeley’s accounts of the public executions of criminals – and slaves added by James – did little to recommend the park like setting to most. 

James recounted the most recent occurrence during the German Coast Uprising in 1811, when three slaves were hung in the square and the heads of some of the executed rebels were placed on the city gates. The militia quickly squashed the uprising of the densely slave populated sugar plantation area, but not before the uprising saw a total of ninety-five black people killed between the insurrection and the resulting trials. In comparison only two white men were killed during the event. A somber tone fell upon the group and Cholmondeley quickly pointed out the matching buildings on either side of the cathedral. The _Cabildo_ on the left which was the site of the original Louisiana Purchase transfer in 1803. To the right and standing as a fine example of colonial Spanish architecture was the _Presbytère_ – or as the Spanish called it "Casa Curial." It was originally built to house the city’s clergy, but was instead had only been used for commercial purposes.

The port of New Orleans was typically the busiest one of the time period, but the blockade had proved effective and they did not have long to wait before a dock was available to moor the ship. James voice rose over the eager excitement of all who were eager to disembark and explore the port city. Live music already filtering out of establishments and beckoning the sailors forth. The ship needed a large enough crew aboard for protection, and it was no surprise that both Atticus and Bill would remain behind in James absence, with a small amount of the crew. Robert would remain under their watchful eye. The rest of the crew were given a strict curfew to return to the ship. The passengers were given their leave to explore the city as per their own desire and available coin, or remain on the ship. Cholmondeley and Godfrey exchanged the briefest of looks and were already making their plans to leave err James was finished speaking. Pearle, exchanging a coy look with Lorna, opted to remain behind on the ship for the evening… and she noted Bill’s smile where he quietly stood. 

William, having been to the port numerous times via his family’s business dealings had acquaintances in the city that he planned to visit. He also offered to secure housing for James for the duration of his stay in the city should he wish more comfortable lodging than the Captain’s Cabin. James nodded his thanks and they agreed upon a time and place to meet on the morrow to discuss options. After recommending a reputable Inn, William made his leave, closely followed by Godfrey and Cholmondeley. Their raised voices carrying back to the ship to the amusement of many, and no doubt a warning to the city of New Orleans. Lorna’s heart was pounding in her chest by the time James finally turned to her with a raised brow and then proceeded to the cabin to grab the small bags they had readied for the night. She waited on deck, eyes lifted to the stars and feeling the cooler night breeze caress upon her skin. The sounds and smells of the city appealing to the sense of adventure that rose within her and was eager to be set free. Though after the long river voyage of the day, she would be more than content to snuggle in a comfortable bed with the man her eyes had barely been able to leave all day. As if he read her mind, the soft brush of lips was suddenly felt on the back of her neck and his strong arms wrapped around her middle as he breathed her in deep.

“Ready for another adventure my love?”

Her head tilted back to find his ready lips and it was all the answer James needed. Arm in arm they strode down the gangplank and made their way towards the city.

~

Two great fires had destroyed the previous French colonial influenced structures and as a result the Spanish influence was allowed to reign supreme. Wood siding was abandoned in favour of pastel painted stucco, peaked roofs for flat tiled ones, and elaborately decorated ironwork galleries and balconies. It was through this colourful French Quarter that James and Lorna passed until they arrived at a small establishment named _Hotel de la Marine._ The pair immediately noted that the inn and its restaurant appeared a rendezvous for the strange, eclectic and most likely dangerous mix of characters that frequented the riverfront city. As Mr. and Mrs. James Delaney acquired a room for several nights, whispers concerning “the brothers” holding court in the tavern could be overhead. James glanced at Lorna and seeing the unbridled curiosity in her eyes as she leaned around a corner to glance into the dark interior, whisked her upstairs post haste.

Their room was bright and airy with its wide open windows, and to Lorna’s relief obviously a thoroughly scrubbed clean. A writing desk sat against the wall between the two floor to ceiling windows. Though spacious, it was largely dominated by the huge four poster bed along the exposed brick wall. Lorna immediately sat upon the mattress, finding it incredibly comfortable and the coverings also clean and soft. She fell back with a groan, legs dangling over the edge. James set their bags down in a far corner and tugged off his boots, also kicked to a far corner. Some things never changed. Hat and coat were haphazardly hung upon the provided hall tree and umbrella stand. Laying stretched out upon the bed gazing at the intricate plaster ceiling, she gasped at the grip of a hand suddenly upon her calves as James stood between her legs and slowly divested each foot of its slipper. His hands glided up first one silk covered limb, slowly pulling a stocking down over a trim ankle. A burning in his gaze that held her breathless in place while he turned his attention to the other leg, then the bed dipped with the weight of his knees upon its edge. Supporting himself on one hand, he pulled the ties of her gown, the collar loosening to allow his hands to caress the creamy curve of her breasts. Her hands reached for his own shirt, but James caught them before she could tug it over his head; pinning her arms above her head.

“Aahh, don’t move.”

His head lowered and the warmth of his mouth traveled over the exposed flesh still retaining the heat of the day, and she inadvertently twitched, her fingers dying to thread in the longer lengths of his hair. He didn’t kiss her lips, but slowly moved down her still clothed body, only reaching for the fastening of his trousers. Her eyes watched with a growing hunger when he pulled his hardened length out and began slowly stroking it to full mast. Her centre clenched in response to his shallow breaths as he lifted her skirts with his free hand, the rough pads of his fingers on the bare skin raising bumps along her flesh. He pressed a kiss upon her inner thigh and all the way down until he released himself and grabbed her by the ankles, lifting them to his broad chest. The height of the bed was perfect for his entry into her slick opening, and he squeezed her legs closer, tightening her grip upon his shaft. A thick, deep moan rising as his gaze burned down upon her. His thrusts starting slow, she was so tight and his legs shook with the pleasure that coursed through his entire body. The sensation heightened when he glanced down and watched his cock gliding in and out, covered in the evidence of her desire. He groaned again and drove himself deep, than slowly out, watching her back arch high off the bed when her moans joined his own. He’d been thinking of taking her like this all day and as he stroked her deep he concluded the reality was better than anything he could daydream. He watched her hands gripping the cover, still held in position above her thrashing head. She groaned in almost agony.

“James, I need to touch you. Please.”

He growled, her begging tone traveling straight from his ears to his throbbing cock, “Not yet love. Patience.”

Her heels dug into his shoulders as her hips raised to meet his thrusting demands; the pace quickening as he felt the release tearing along every nerve. So tight. So wet for him. He was charging towards the finish and still he had not felt her own quivering signaling her pending release. Her head was lifted and eyes fastened on the place where they were joined and he could see the fascination and exhilaration in her gaze as he entered and withdrew. Briefly they lifted to his own and his breath caught and he barely rasped his request.

“You may touch yourself if you wish.”

A brief uncertainty crossed her face, but the desperation for release won over any ingrained modesty and her fingers reached down to touch the parted folds, grazing his thrusting cock before settling on her sensitive button. James pulled out and rubbed the head of his shaft along with her fingers, leaving it slick and wet to aid her attentions. Then plunged deep to the hilt, his hips rolling in a pace that became increasingly frenzied while he watched himself thrusting deep and her own fingers circling. The gasps of pleasure that escaped her unchecked sending his passion soaring. Jasmine drifting in the open windows and their own musky scents filled the room with an intoxicating elixir. His eyes closed as he fought for control and then snapped open to seek her own when he felt the shaking in her legs and fluttering deep inside. Leaning over he grasped her hips tighter and drove deeper with a slow, sensual pace, while her fingers rubbed furiously. The orgasm from the simultaneous sensations rocked through her entire body; lifting her from the bed. Impaled on his still thrusting cock, it drew her climax out for what seemed an eternity and propelled James over the edge as he roared his own release. He’d never get enough of this, of her… not in a hundred years would it ever be enough. 

Spent he released her legs back against the bed and slowly crawled up her body to find her lips. Sweat dripping from his brow and she longed to run a hand through the damp strands upon his forehead.

“May I touch you now James?”

He only briefly broke his mouth from hers, “Yes my love… everywhere.”

Soft fingers touched his face gently, threaded through the thick, damp thatch of hair, and then down his back to clasp his buttocks and mold them closer. His body was still on fire; still wanting her with every fiber of his being. She voiced the need before it could pass lips that couldn’t stop kissing her.

“You have far too many clothes on James for me touch you as I want.”

“Hhhmmm.”

With great regret he finally pulled himself away and stood by the bedside fastening his trousers. Smiling to himself at the small pout upon her face. He’d never get enough of how much she wanted him too. 

“I’m going to call for water so that we can bathe. Together. So that you can put your hands wherever you like. And so shall I.”

He quickly left their room while she remained flat on her back, breathing heavy and staring at the ceiling. When he returned, he brought a plate of cheese, breads and meats for them to enjoy while a young Creole boy prepared the bath, hauling numerous buckets of steaming water to the water closet adjoining their room via a private door. Lorna ate lightly, though her stomach was gnawing at her insides. Her thoughts were flying too far ahead for her to enjoy each morsel chewed. She couldn’t wait to have that bronzed skin wet under her exploring hands. James distracted himself from the heat in her gaze by perusing the local paper, _Le Moniteur de la Louisiane_ and asking the young boy questions when he would appear with a new bucket. He was a free black and offered much information regarding the city, including a coffee shop across the street where they could obtain breakfast on the morn. James nodded his gratitude. The boy hauled the last empty bucket from the room and James handed him several coins before he closed the door with a soft click. Finally alone again, they practically raced down the short hallway to the tub. She had no idea how, but when she reached the room and turned around, James was already naked. She didn’t have to time to question it before her own shift was dragged over her head and sailed softly to the floor.

The warm water wrapped itself around their sun kissed skin easing aches and washing away the grimy weeks at sea. James leaned forward in the tub allowing her soapy hands to move all over his skin, tracing the dark bands and massaging into the deeper tissue. He groaned in pleasure; grateful for her thoughtful attention. Gradually all the lingering knots released their hold and he sighed in relief, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing the fingertips. Gently she poured the cool rinse over his head and when he stood and turned about, watched the water flow over every contoured muscle … and trailing down over his half erect manhood. James saw the desire flickering in the pools of her eyes and smiled as he sat once again and took the soapy sponge in hand.

“You are eager today love.” He held up the sponge. “Your turn.”

She calmly submitted to his thorough washing, eyes watching his as they roamed over all her suds covered parts, paying particular close attention to her breasts and then lifting each leg in turn. He even washed between her toes and the tickling sensation brought both giggles and a warm flush that coursed through her entire body in one long rush. The intimacy of the moment binding them ever closer to one another. Finally he turned her about and with her head resting over his bent knees, washed the long red tresses until they squeaked clean, and rinsed them with the cooler water. Plying her comb to the long tangles until it hung down over his legs and pooled like coiled flames upon his stomach. Lifting beneath her shoulders, he helped her stand so she could rinse with the last remnants from the pail. His hands about her hips and turning her around to watch the water cascade down in rivulets upon the light golden skin. Leaning forward he traced his tongue along the sensitive lines of her ribcage and when her knees buckled, finally pulled her onto his lap. His erection probed between them as their mouths merged in slow, languid kisses. Hands still roaming over dampened skin. Hell if he wasn’t going to learn to love baths. On occasion. Especially if he could have her wet ass in his palms and pulling her hips along his engorged flesh like this. Without breaking the kiss, she reached down and grasped him firmly and raised slightly so she could guide him inside. The feel of the water surrounding them and their wet bodies pressed so close and gliding upon each other quickly drove them to the edge. James growled into the tender skin at her throat.

“Let’s finish this in the bed so I can properly repay my debt.”

They both stepped carefully from the tub and before she could even grab one of the nearby towels, James lifted her into his arms and in several long strides tossed her wet and naked form upon the bed. She bounced twice and came still with wet limbs flung wide and James nostrils flared at the image before him. That feral hunter look entered his eyes again and Lorna knew without a doubt, it was going to be a long night. The moans that escaped when his mouth covered the still damp curls between her thighs echoed loudly throughout the room. His tongued dipped inside and she shouted and moaned his name to the rafters. James lifted his head and looked around the room and then towards the open windows. Reaching across the bed he pulled the silk tie from one of the curtains that surrounded the bed, pulling it taut between his hands as he leaned down towards her wide eyed gaze.

“We need the windows left open love… and I will not hold back my attentions so you will be quiet.”

Her breath hitched, but eyes narrowed in challenge as a single brow raised. 

“Fine James. But when you start groaning, it’s my turn with the bind.”

James cast a wicked and confident smile at her before lifting her head to tie the gag. She submitted, but her eyes snapped fire before he secured the bind. “And don’t forget who taught me how to tie a knot.”

James groaned deeply at her saucy retort… and immediately lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Ben Johnson quote
> 
> \+ Chalmette Plantation was the home of Colonel Denis de La Ronde’s half-brother, Ignace Martin de Linowhere and where very soon the Battle of New Orleans will be fought – the great oaks - if you go today you can still see the black scars from canon shot on some of the trunks.
> 
> Plaza des Armas will soon be renamed to it’s current Jackson Square after the the Battle of New Orleans.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sights, sounds and smells of New Orleans.
> 
> A new threat? As if encroaching war is not enough.

The hour was late when the lovers finally drifted asleep wrapped in one another with the jasmine and wisteria scented night breeze cooling their fevered skin. Their evening spent loving one another thoroughly and talking about the road that lay ahead.

“We’re halfway there, aren’t we James?”

His fingers squeezed her own as they lay under the yellow silk damask canopy, “There’s a long way to go yet. And dangers still ahead.”

Her head lifted from his shoulder, “But you’ve gotten us this far James… you will get us to Nookta.”

His heart skipped to hear the trust and confidence in her voice and more than ever he was keenly aware the idea of living without her was not one he wanted to entertain. The one detail that was never a part of his grand plan, now become more important than any plan. As she lay her head to rest upon him, he was glad she could not see the worry that plagued him. He wondered briefly if William could obtain information from his acquaintances in the city. At least enough to ensure that his head was still relatively safe upon his shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and breathed in the fresh, clean scent of her still damp tresses. If not, she would be in danger too. They would most certainly use her. His arms circled tightly about her, felt the sigh upon his bare chest – they could not know how much she meant to him. But as her body shifted atop his own and began to move; the soft whisper of her love in his ears – he could think of no great force strong enough to separate them from one another. He knew he needed this love of hers and he needed to love her in return, or he would surely be lost to darkness again. If he was a proper man, he would release her so that she could be safe and free to live a life free from running. He had tried to do as much for his sister when his eyes were open to the mistake of their union, and the results had not been the outcome he sought. He was quite certain Lorna would not seek the same end, she was too strong. Still, he was being a selfish bastard and it goaded at his insides. His only recourse was to find a way to get them safely out of the city and quickly.

All those thoughts quickly set aside and he lost himself in making love to her with a new intensity that took them both by surprise and lasted long into the night. The words they shared and lavished on one another only deepening the sensations and drawing that circle ever closer. With some chagrin he was aware of telling her how much he needed her, that he couldn’t live without her now, while in the throes of passion. He wished he could say it when they rested calm and sated in each other’s embrace and spoke of other things. Feeling the urgency and almost desperation in his ardor, that strange sense of foreboding came back to call upon her nerves and it was only the sheer exhaustion he brought with his attention that allowed her to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

~

With the bright sunlight shining in the windows and the aroma of the garden below stirring their senses, it was impossible to awaken with any lingering sense of ill ease. A night of passionate love making and heart to heart conversation goes a long way towards a cheery morn as well. Lorna shifted in the fold of his arms, slipping in and out of sleep and only barely aware of his fingers lightly rubbing along her back. His deep intake of breath before his voice came low roused her to wakefulness.

“I mean every word I say to you. You know that don’t you?”

Lorna recalled the impassioned words that fell from his lips as his body worshiped her own. Words she had hoped in her heart were not just uttered on a whim. He was so strong, but so empty and hard as stone at times too. Could he really not live without her? Her tender heart wanted to believe, but her practical side touted it a silly outdated romantic notion. She could live without him, but it would be the barest shadow of existence now that she knew what it was to be loved by him.

“We are both strong James. We would go on, would we not?”

“You must.”

As soon as he uttered the words, all her bravado melted in a crushed heap, and she raised upon the pillows, lifting pleading eyes to his.

“You must Lorna. You must hold Nootka. And Robert. Keep him safe… and loved. Will you do that for me?”

Eyes misting over, though she raised her chin and nodded her head. “You know I will James. I will hold both, always.” She searched his eyes that for once flickered about the room instead of holding her own. “James, is there something else?”

His head turned upon the pillow and she felt the squeeze on her hand once more before he offered one of his half smiles. “My ship and what to do with it.” His eyes shifted upward, fixed on the floral patterns swirling above. “They will expect me to sail around Cape Horn, but not expect me to sell it.”

“You will not use if for trade?”

“Mmm. Yes.”

She shifted in the bed to lift confused eyes to his own that finally met her gaze. He chuckled softly at her furrowed brow. “James, am I to forever guess your plans?”

He stroked her soft cheek. “It may keep you safe not to know.” The rolling of her eyes and the slight frown suggested that reply was not good enough. “I didn’t say my ship would not sail the route, I said they will expect me to sail.”

“But you won’t?”

“No. We cross by land and if they wish to pursue, it will be an empty ship save the sailors necessary to guide her.”

“If they try to catch you by sea, you will have already escaped by land.”

“Muah.”

“That’s brilliant James. How long will it take? Will we meet it on the other side? Is it a long journey across?”

He raised a brow and held up a hand at the volley of questions. “This is why I keep my plans to myself love, you’re far too inquisitive.” Her lips pressed thin and she pinched his arm before falling back upon the bed. 

He chuckled softly before answering. “The truth is I don’t know. The Cape Horn passage is very dangerous. Winds are frigid and fierce. It’s a damn graveyard of ships there. And I have no idea how long it will take to travel up the West Coast since once past the Cape the ship will be sailing into the currents and weather. If they have to sail the pacific high to the Sandwhich Islands first and then find the wind currents to sail west towards the California coast. It could add many weeks.” He leaned on his side and wrapped an arm about her waist. “I’m in new territory too now Lorna, but I’d guess anywhere from three to six months.”

“Will crossing by land take near as long?”

James could only offer a shrug in reply, but he did offer one option for a shorter journey. “If Atticus would agree to sail, he would likely consider the The Strait of Magellan passage. He’s experienced enough to make the journey and it could save weeks of sailing time. Otherwise, we will need to book passage on another ship to get us to Nootka.”

With a sigh he rested his head on her breast. They lingered for a few moments enjoying the soft comfort of the bed, the quiet of the inn and the bright sunlight that filtered in the windows; all a welcome respite from the stuffy, damp confines of the cabin. New territory.

“I suppose it’s all new from here on, isn’t it James.”

A grunt came in reply. Then he suddenly lifted his head.

“That reminds me!” He snapped his fingers and gave her a hearty squeeze before jumping naked from the bed. “Café au lait and beignets await.”

Hearing Cholmondeley’s voice echo in her ears, Lorna’s eyes widened warily.

~

Coffee.

And pastry.

Her mind had imagined a dozen different scenarios as James lead her across the street. They passed several taverns that still spilled their music onto the streets and the odd tipsy patron; even this early in the morning. Until finally stopping before a building, the sign hanging above the door; Café des Refugies. 

Café au lait was revealed to be coffee, with chicory root which lent a slightly bitter taste, although reduced greatly by the addition of the scalded milk. Made even sweeter when consumed with beignets - a pastry dusted with powdered sugar. She blushed slightly at how her imagination had run wild and cursed Cholmondeley for his explicit renderings; both literary and verbal. To think she might have missed experiencing something so delicious and delightful. She smiled softly seeing the white powdered sugar collecting in James’ beard. They lingered over coffee listening to the local chatter and watching the activity beyond the windows. 

Listening to the various languages and accents around them, it was evident that New Orleans was a place where European settlers, blacks both free and slave, and Natives all mingled and shared their cultures and the resulting weave created a cultural flavor as spicy as the food was rumoured to be. Lives an customs were intertwined in a manner that was drastically different than the English settled colonies of the world that James had visited. The Louisiana Purchase may have ensured the expansion of the country, but it was very clear the Creole population would ensure that English did not become the dominant language. From what they could discern of the chatter around them, Protestantism continued to be scorned, and the city jealously guarded its way of life. When they left the café to take a brief stroll along its lively streets, they chuckled at an English tourist obviously recoiling from the prevailing French language; not to mention the bawdy sights often offered within its taverns and spilling out on the streets. As they continued it became clear that the deeply rooted Creole and Native populations with their peculiar traditions drew even stranger looks. To say a more liberal way of life was enjoyed in the Old World city was an understatement. James leaned down and whispered in her ear that he had read in the paper that its own Governor, William Charles Cole Claiborne, declared the city and its occupants largely ungovernable. 

As they continued along the bayou, near Bayou Bridge they passed by _Pitot House_ ; a classic example of the Creole Colonial architecture and named for the former Mayor James Pitot who was the home’s fourth and current resident. Unable to resist a peek, Lorna drew closer to view the _ensuite_ style with its wide open doors across from one another designed to allow the night breeze to cool the rooms from the heat of the day. The lush gardens could be viewed from the upper balconies. Seeing her interest, a maid invited her to view the parterre, showing her and James to the back of the residence. Delighted to find it was a formal garden constructed on a level substrate and consisting of planted beds in symmetrical patterns; separated and connected by paths. So much like an English garden they immediately felt as if they were back home. The maid pointed out the various flowers, shrubs and plants, and they appropriately exclaimed over the camellias, Grand Dukes and violets which thrived and bloomed. Thanking the lady for her time, they made their leave and retraced their steps back to the Inn so that James could be ready to meet William for their meeting regarding renting a house during their stay. Along the way they spared a few more minutes to enjoy a group of street musicians performing a dance and drumming routine in the tradition of African influence. James watched Lorna’s face as it beamed with pleasure as she listened to the songs mixed with spirituals and rural rhythms. Her smile wide as the performer in her no doubt appreciated the talent of the group. She loudly clapped her appreciation at the conclusion and James tossed a few coins into the overturned hat before they continued on their way. James smiling as he caught the humming sounds at his side, and he suspected the tune would likely be caught in her head for the rest of the day. He chuckled to himself at the notion of his English Rose singing an African and Creole inspired song. She never failed to amaze him.

~

They had just enough time to freshen in their room before meeting William in the Inn’s dining for lunch. James glanced to her slender throat pleased to see the necklace had had gifted her resting above her décolleté. She fingered the piece and met his warm smile. In the Inn’s dining room, the gentleman greeted them, looking every inch like he had lived in the city his entire life and easily conversed with the Inn staff in both French and Spanish. James, who knew enough French to get by in general circumstances, cast a glance at Lorna’s own surprised expression. The man had a seemingly endless array of talents, which extended of course to meal recommendations. Certainly they found no fault with his choice, as they all consumed the deliciously flavorful Creole seafood gumbo served with rice heartily. James, somewhat familiar with the concept due to its West African influences and the use of okra, thoroughly enjoyed the addition of shrimp, crab meat and sausage. And of course the “holy trinity” of vegetables often used in Creole cuisine: celery, bell peppers, and onions. 

James and William carried the majority of the dinner discussion, as James use for him concerned what information his acquaintances could gather. As for now, it seemed their presence in the city was still unknown. However, in hushed tones William did impart that his friends seemed most concerned with the advancement of the war towards the city. Rumours of a battle pending were spreading quickly due to the presence of the British Naval ships along several lakes surrounding the city. William advised James that it might be wisest to keep his stay in the city as brief as possible. The remainder of their conversation concerned what immediate supplies were necessary to be obtained for a westward journey and recommendations for a guide. Lorna ate quietly as the men discussed various options and necessities for the journey, the sense of ill ease settling in her stomach along with the rich food. James cast several glances in her direction, noting the small furrow of her brow every now and then, but each time she met his gaze, a bright smile would cross her features and his worry eased. No doubt it was the talk to the war advancing that had caused her to be disturbed.

Dessert combined the Creole twin virtues of frugality and indulgence in a warm bread pudding with raisins in rum sauce; drizzled with a caramel flavouring and dusted with powdered sugar. Over tea they discussed William’s options regarding housing rentals so that the majority of the group could remain close and have a comfortable base of operations. Tremoulet’s House was dismissed as a possible lodging due to the outrageous, cruel and often public punishments its mistress liked to employ upon her servants. The last thing James and his league of the damned needed was attention to be drawn towards them. Aside from the turning of their stomachs regarding the behavior. 

“Keep looking William, it will be better for us to all be gathered in one place in order to make our plans, and the earliest my ship can sail, the sooner any interested parties will think I have left the city.”

William nodded and insisting on paying for their lunch, made his leave. While the pair retired to their room for a period of rest before night settled upon the city. Finding the room hot and humid in the late heat of the day, they stripped down to bare skin before climbing into the soft sheets to reclaim the lost hours of sleep from their previous evening. Despite her thoughts, Lorna too exhausted to ask a single question.

~

While some English tourists may have turned up their genteel noises at the sights, sounds and smells of the city, this was not the case of Delaney’s band of misfits, who perhaps for the first time in their lives found a place where they could easily blend in and not stand out as different. Good food, good wine, good music and dancing that carried over into the darkened streets from bars that lined the French Quarter district. Cholmondeley thought he had died and gone to heaven. Or hell – he didn’t much care as the good times could roll on until dawn in these taverns with no closing time. There were more than enough comely companions willing to spend the hours with a man who had the necessary coin. Along with Godfrey, Atticus, Bill and Pearle, and several crew members they had gathered in the _Old Absinthe Bar_ so Cholmondeley could experience firsthand what he had had only previous heard tales concerning: the absinthe drip. A drink rumoured to make one go mad. Although certainly if anyone consumed several glasses of the vivid green mixture, it’s a good bet the influence of the alcohol could be the sole cause of any mental disturbance. Elaborate candle chandeliers shone down on marble fountains with brass faucets that dripped water over sugar cubes into glasses of Absinthe which lined the bar. They all tried the cocktail, Cholmondeley as per his nature being the one to over indulge in several, before moving on down the street. 

It was at the _Lafitte Blacksmith Bar_ that they ran into James and Lorna returning from an evening walk about the Quarter and enjoying wine and brandy. Later in the evening William and a few of his acquaintances appeared and regaled the group with tales of piracy in the area, and how the Lafitte was rumoured to have pirate booty buried beneath the establishment. The discussion turned to the chances of pending war coming to the city, but it was deemed too dour a topic for a night of festivity and was quickly abandoned in favour of more jovial fare. In particular the ghost said to haunt the upper balconies of the very Inn at which they were staying. James carefully watched Lorna’s expression crease and then once again, the curious look that hinted of her natural bent towards adventure returned. Still, it was impossible to ignore that she was quieter than usual this evening and kept more to herself than was her nature. He continued to carefully study her as the evening wore on, paying particular attention to the delicate sips of her cocktail and the way her gaze would seek his and then flick away with a brief smile. He missed her enthusiasm and gaiety, only noting how much it lifted his spirits when it was not forthcoming.

After months at sea and the prospect of the blockade a nagging worry in all their minds, the rest of the league of the damned could for once feel truly relaxed and enjoy one another’s company. As the evening lingered on, the round of drinks continued to be served, the stories became increasingly either haunting or vulgar, and the laughter louder. All too soon James noticed Lorna stifling a yawn, though her eyes still retained the odd flicker of amusement over the behavior of the men. Offering his arm, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, and the flush that crept up to her cheeks did not go unnoticed to rest of the group. James escorted her from the establishment on his arm to the sound of much ribald cheering echoing behind him. They were only a few feet away when William called James name, informing him that he had found a suitable house and would visit the Inn on the morrow with the details. Nodding his thanks, the couple continued on their way and William returned to the bar; the sound of loud cheering spilling out into the street as he loudly called for another round.

~

Back in their room, James noticed a silent stillness had settled over Lorna as she sat upon the bed in her shortened shift and gazed out the windows, drawing her brush through the red tendrils in long strokes. Unable to guess her mood he was unsure if it was one of tranquility or troubled thoughts. One girandole, its crystal drops tinkling in the gentle night wind, cast its candle light around her, so that a halo of light surrounded her in ethereal glow. Kneeling on the bed behind her, James took the brush and continued the long strokes, letting the soft tresses glide through his fingers. Her eyes closed and she sighed into his gentle attention.

“You are quiet this night madam.”

“Mmmmm.”

He briefly worried she might be coming too much like him in her vocalizations and what a shame that would be for someone who loved words. For one who had always seemed to find the right ones for the right moment. Another worry flirts around the edges of his mind: that it may all be too much. Him, this journey, the dangers and the long miles still ahead. As if she read his thoughts, her voice finally came softly.

“All this talk of haunted houses and voodoo rituals and war marching across the land and sea… it feels as though we will never know peace.” She took a deep sigh and her shoulders sagged. “And we have a long way to go. So many miles still stretch before us James. And we know not where the danger may lay.”

His brow creased, unsure of how to handle such a rare mood that sounded like defeat to his ears. His heart squeezed to know he was the one who had brought her to such circumstances. All this time he had clung to the belief that this was her wish as well. The brush paused.

“Do you regret the journey Lorna?”

She turned to face him, kneeling and grasping his hands in her own. 

“Never James.” Her smile was genuine and he realized he had been holding his breath. “That’s what I tried to tell you – back on the boat that night we met the Birmingham’s. Any moment James. Any amount of time I get with you - it’s a gift.” Her hands reached up to caress his face. “It’s all worth it James. Every single moment and though I am tired, I will not give up.”

The breath he’d been holding released in a long sigh, as did the wetness collecting in the corner of his eyes. Her head turned to glance out the window upon the night beyond the opened windows. The humming of the cicadas joining the songs of crickets and beneath the faint beats from the distant taverns. The air was cooler and smelled faintly of the damp bayou on the outskirts of the city. A night that teemed with life and the pulsing energy from the city’s evening pursuits. 

“It’s too beautiful a night to wallow in sadness and worry. I don’t want to waste any moment with you.” 

“Then no more talk of darkness, come here my love.” 

Rising from the bed, he snuffed out the candles and reached towards her. She came easily into his arms, pushing him back upon the bed and covered his mouth in a kiss that was both urgent and soft. James lay submissive under her attentions and let her take the pleasure she sought. Content to watch her body pale and shimmering in the moonlight that streamed through curtains billowing gently about their room like silent wraiths keeping watch over lovers caught unaware. Allowing his fingers to lightly trace her skin and his hips moving beneath her own until their shadows melted away into the darkness of the night. Their union tonight sweet and slow and both felt the worries of tomorrow set aside for the love that was theirs here and now. 

In the garden below, the red flame of a pipe flared among the fragrant shrubs and remained unnoticed, as the lovers eyes were turned to one another. Glancing up to the windows, white teeth briefly flashed into a grotesque smirk, and then with silent tread disappeared quietly into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the references in this chapter are actual names and places in New Orleans at the time period. In particular the cafe, Inn and bar that our characters visited were all popular establishments. Much of the information was gathered from journals and diaries of both plantation owners and slaves that I found and proved very interesting reading material.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Port of New Orleans where the good times roll... until they don't.

An early morning wake-up call came as a chorus of various song birds flit between the trees of the garden beyond the room’s open windows. A fresh scented breeze drifted through lingering dreams holding the promise of another beautiful sunny Southern morning. Stretching her limbs towards the rays that already lent a warmth to the room, Lorna pulled back the covers and with a yawn strolled towards the beckoning light to greet a new day. A glance over her shoulder revealed James with eyes still firmly squeezed shut. Bare chested, his tribal marks contrasting boldly with the pastel and flowered sheets, he lay with the downy comforter wrapped about his waist; one leg kicked free of its soft confines. Her eyes traveled over the furred chest and down the lean torso before resting on the exposed banded thigh; one brow arched high in appreciation. A quick glance back towards his handsome face, darkly lined with the morning’s growth of whiskers, before she turned her gaze out over the bountiful gardens once again.

A wrought iron garden bistro set was situated in the shade of an oak tree; its limbs decorated in Spanish moss that hung as silver curtained threads from the branches. She could see tiny yellow flowers peeking from within the back-lit shroud. Along the outer edges of the garden vibrant pink Drift Roses still bloomed, while various ferns and yucca plants rose behind providing a lush background. Her eyes recognized the double, dark pink flowers that still bloomed upon the evergreen shrub the maid at _Pitot House_ had called camellias. Leaning as far out the open window as she could, a thorough scan suggested they were in the middle of a planting season; as various trees or plants still stood in pots at one end of the garden. Further inspection revealed much of the pots and garden areas displayed various shades of green, rather than riotous colour. The overall setting, with a few statues and various seating arrangements still proved most welcoming. Leaning against the window frame she sighed deep and contented herself with a few more moments of taking in the beautiful landscape. 

Propped upon an elbow, James had been silently watching her the past few minutes. A study that stood still as stone and he imagined as if he painted it alone. Framed in sunlight that turned her gossamer shift invisible so that every curve and line of her slender form was easily glimpsed by his roaming gaze. Her unbound tresses hung in flaming ringlets down her slender back, shining like glossy threads from his attentive brush strokes the previous evening. Much to his own surprise, a task that he enjoyed for its soothing affect upon him. He loved to feel the long, soft length of it trailing through his own roughened fingers; curling about them of its own accord. Her profile was caught in filtered repose and James knew if she turned her gaze to him now, he’d see the exuberance of youth still bathed her newly golden skin in a dewy glow. Intelligence would radiate from those warm orbs and that smile she doesn’t hide under lock and key would flash easily. While the hot African sun and a dozen years of times slow measured grains had marched across his own lean visage; leaving the lines and scars of battles fought along the way etched upon a canvas dulling before its time. In this moment, his own smile came easily and lazily stretched as he enjoyed a lengthy perusal from trim calves and all the thinly veiled temptations in between. Glazing over the pale shoulder blades he noticed her chin resting upon the curved tops – her own calm gaze quietly regarding him. Both of them caught in shameless adoration of the other, but it was her that flushed slightly while James quickly pulled the covers back and strode naked from the bed. She couldn’t halt the flicker of her eyes downward to the bold blade that protruded forth; bouncing temptingly with each step. Until it was pressed up against the curve of her buttocks through the flimsy material of her gown when James arms circled tight about her waist and he dropped a kiss upon her shoulder. He looked out upon the lush scene spread below them.

“Would you like a garden when we get to Nootka?”

Eyes shining bright, she could only nod in reply and leaned back into the warmth of his chest.

“Then you shall have one.” 

Her head tilted back and pressed a kiss upon his jawline and felt the twitch upon her backside from his arousal. He pulled her even closer while his mouth swooped down to brand its fire upon her throat and suddenly she was hoisted into his arms and carried back to the bed. 

A short time later, they were seated at the wrought iron bistro seat beneath the sprawling shade of the old oak. The garden furniture was comfortable due to the thoughtful addition of soft cushions and they both admired the wide seated chairs with their winged Griffin legs and the intricate leaf pattern that adorned the backs. The matching settee was placed across. A breakfast tray of still warm scones with fresh preserves and the always available beignets sat upon a dining table that featured a scrolled wrought iron frame topped by a pane of glass. This morning they were served by a lovely and cheerful Mulatto woman who poured two cups of steaming brew from a large coffee carafe and then left them to the quiet solitude of the garden. An elderly couple sat at the opposite end also enjoying their breakfast and they nodded a greeting before turning back to enjoy the inviting spread before them. 

While they enjoyed the delicious repast, they noted several other artistic pieces arranged throughout the setting. An iron fountain plaque featuring a lady wrapped in fabric standing on a lion’s head and ram heads on either side was an immediate favourite of James. The water flowed in a slow melodious trickle from the mouth of the lion; conveniently blocking the noise from the street beyond the garden hedges. Various statues of cherubs and saints stood as silent observers in corners; indeed it seemed every nook and cranny offered some viewing delight. They were just pouring a second cup of coffee when through the iron gates strode the impeccably dressed form of Lord William Johnston, looking polished and bright as though he had not spent the previous evening sampling the local taverns. With a hearty _good morning Sir, My Lady,_ he settled his tall length upon the settee, lean legs stretched forth and turned his face upwards to catch the warming rays. Lorna and James exchanged a glance over the rim of their cups. Lorna addressed the man who for all appearances seemed inclined to nap the morning away in the sun.

“Have you broken the fast yet William?”

A muffled sound suspiciously similar to James own restrained replies arose, as his hands lifted and pressed against his eyelids and then massaged along his temples. His head slanted sideways and he peeked one eye open in James direction.

“Have you ever gone out for a night of fun with your good doctor chemist James?”

James shifted nervously in his seat, eyes darting towards where Lorna had noticeably leaned forward in her seat.

“No, I have not. But I do not doubt that whatever tale you are about to impart will not be fit for the lady’s ears, hmmm?”

The other eye peeled open and fell on Lorna’s eager face. He smirked a grimace and then leaned back with closed eyes once more.

“Ah, quite right you are James. Suffice to say we have yet to see him returned to his bunk.”

James grunted, while Lorna waved their attendant over as she passed to request another cup for their guest. The young woman nodded and made haste to fetch the item. Passing a gentleman who strode through the gates with a folded paper in his hands, she directed him towards an empty bistro set directly across from their party. He ordered café before sitting facing the group and then unfolded his paper to read. Both James and William’s narrowed gazes observed the man’s bent head and exchanged a quiet glance with one another. The look between the two men missed by Lorna as the mulatto woman had returned with the extra cup. She poured for William and then once again with muted smile took her leave. Sipping his coffee, William shared a few less risqué tales from the previous evening and informed James that all was well on his ship. Supplies had been ordered in preparation for sailing; some of which were already arriving this very morning.

“Did you manage to find suitable lodging William?” Lorna glanced around the lovely garden once more. “Though I should be sad to leave this lovely Inn, it will be easier to have us all together in one place.”

Once again both James and William had noticed the man’s head briefly lifting from his paper at Lorna’s question. William waiting until he had returned to his morning reading before he simply nodded quietly at James. Just as she was about to question again, James took one of her hands.

“Why don’t you go prepare for the day my love?” His voice dropped to a low hush. “We will need to visit the market for necessary items and supplies for our journey.” His intent gaze clearly indicating this was not a matter of choice and that questions would not be receiving any answers. Lorna’s gaze flickered between the two men and though she knew they were deliberately withholding information, she raised her chin and with a stilted _excuse me gentlemen_ left the garden. Both men rose as she did, and then resumed their previous positions.

James leaned back and rubbed his beard and the muscles at the back of his neck. “I have a feeling I’m going to pay for that.”

William leaned forward and James following his lead did the same, resting his elbows upon the table. A quick glance to ensure the man continued to keep eyes on his paper, and then William spoke low.

“Well knowing too much is certainly not in her best interest right now James. And neither is the two of you staying alone here.” 

James braced himself for another tirade concerning his “ill treatment” of the lady, but William held up his hand before he could protest.

“Not like that. I simply mean being alone – unprotected. I have secured a house and Atticus and Godfrey, if he can manage it after last night, will be moving to the location with your belongings and some supplies as we speak. Robert will accompany them.” His voice dropped even lower. “But Atticus did mention that it appears eyes are watching all the comings and goings of your ship.”

James nodded his head and mumbled something that may have sounded like gratitude for the faithful crook. He knew the worldly wise criminal would not miss a thing while the ship was under his guard.

“After a tour of the markets, the lady and I will join the others at the house. Will you be staying as well?”

William shook his head and offered no further explanation.

“So that is it then, good.” James rose to standing, but William’s quiet cough halted him before he could leave. “Not all?”

William’s face melted into grim lines and his eyes showed the first sign of doubt. “That depends James. Do you want to know how much your head is currently worth?”

~

The heat of the day was not helping to improve James rapidly declining good mood as he stood in the middle of the Meat Market, assaulted by a dozen different sight, sounds and smells. The confusion of languages and vendors had caused both he and Lorna to pause briefly in the middle of the din as they considered what their most pressing needs might be. William had stated that the house was fully furnished and included any necessary kitchen supplies and linens, thus their concern was mainly food and any required personal items. However, with the presence of English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Irish and even Jewish vendors, the constant babble of tongues proved most bewildering. After a brief discussion, it was surprisingly Lorna who arrived at the simplest plan: meats, breads, vegetables, and fruits. Keep it simple and they would be done in no time. The scene of his old butcher block table littered with duck feathers fresh in his mind, he could not hide his surprise at how easily she sorted it out. Although he still cast a dubious eye upon her as she traversed the various vendors: actually cooking the food was another matter entirely. He briefly considered hiring a temporary cook, but as he overheard her discussion on cooking preparations with several Creole women and how eager they were to lend their assistance despite the language barrier, he realized he should have known she would find a way. Sparing the expense of a cook was certainly advantageous, but it also meant less strangers around to interfere in his business. 

Various aromas teased the nose within the market, but the strongest one was certainly from the various coffee stands. After another brief cooking lesson, this time from the Italian butcher, she took his arm and led the way towards the coffee stand with the longest queue. James groaned aloud, but she assured him that Rose’s coffee was the best in the market; as told to her by the Inn staff when she had inquired after breakfast. Having thought their coffee the best he’d ever tasted, James relented and escorted her towards where freshly poured cups of the rich brew liberally laced with steamed milk sat upon tables. Other fare such as pralines and calas also for sale. They each took a few moments rest to savour a cup, while they debated whether the traditional beignets or the newly tasted rice fritters were more delicious. Impatient to be away, as he constantly cast wary glances around the market to ensure no one watched them, James deemed the quickest solution was to purchase both varieties. Since they would be feeding several people anyway. One final stop at the booth of the Choctaw from north of Lake Pontchartrain to purchase a variety of herbs and spices and they were ready to depart for the house. With some surprise she had realized while conversing with the various merchants, that the Christmas holiday was mere weeks away, and she had hoped to find small gifts for both James and Robert. Finally accepting it was impossible under his watchful eye, Lorna reluctantly left the display of beautiful native handmade crafts to follow James towards their rented carriage. 

~

It was a merry reunion around the large dining table later that evening. Robert had assisted Lorna in the kitchen by doing the nasty deed of plucking several chickens. If the actual cooking of them left anything to be desired, those in attendance wisely held their tongue. As he leaned back and savoured his brandy, James realized he had thoroughly enjoyed the surprisingly flavorful meal. It was simple and straight forward, but after a long day of moving in the Southern heat, it served to fill their bellies without being too heavy or overwhelmingly spicy. He smiled at her seated at the opposite end of the table, catching up on news with Godfrey and Cholmondeley. Seeing her relaxed manner and easy laughter, he felt the tension of the day finally start to slip away. They were all together and they were all safe… and well fed. For now. He recalled how he had once thought this band of followers was just that – only those gathered to follow his will. To jump when he called. It occurred to him he probably had never experienced a moment such as this, at least not for a very long time. People who enjoyed shared company gathered around a table partaking a meal; entwining their lives. He’d avoided any emotional connection for so long, but the pull of companionship and affection that existed within the room was slowly crumbling his well-built façade brick by lonely brick. 

He leaned forward, laughing loudly with the others, as William and Atticus mercilessly teased Cholmondeley’s unusually slow raising of glass this evening. The chemist still looking quite pale from his past evening activities took the good-natured ribbing in stride, before ensuring the group that he knew exactly what the rest had also been up to while in their cups, though he was clearly too much a gentleman to loosen his tongue. There was a moment of quiet and then the entire table erupted in laughter. The very idea of Cholmondeley and “gentleman” being uttered in the same sentence. Far too soon, Robert felt Lorna’s hand about his shoulders and the most dreaded sentence in the English language, at least to a boy of his age: “time for bed young man” came forth. His eyes lifted to the other end of the table and catching James quiet nod, he mumbled a _yes ma’am_ and then bid his good nights. Lorna followed a few moments later to ensure he had found all his necessities and kissed his smooth forehead and closed the bedroom door softly. Instead of returning to the table, she left the men to their brandy and bawdy tales and turned her attention to the cleaning of the kitchen. Their low voices and sparks of laughter a welcomed background noise to the tedious chore of dish washing. Though she did miss Pearle’s company this evening, she was certain the young girl was having a much better evening back on the ship with Bill. As she was finishing up, she noticed the sounds from the dining room had ceased as one by one they slowly sought their own bedrooms. Turning about she found James leaning in the doorway with glass in hand quietly watching her. 

“Why don’t you leave those until morning and let me wash you in the bath instead?”

With an easy smile she discarded the cloth into the sink, and taking his hand followed him up the stairs to the master chambers. 

~

The next few days saw each one having periods of frantic busy interspersed with much welcomed leisure, as everyone pondered and prepared their own next steps in the journey. Lorna busied herself between the preparation of meals for those at the house and the packing of her trunk for the journey West. Busy in the master chamber one afternoon, a loud bumping and banging upon the wood stairs drew her attention into the hallway where she found James and Atticus hauling a small trunk up the stairs. Both men sweating in the summer heat with the effort. Seeing her curious glance, James grunted a reply.

“For the boy. Can you help him prepare?”

Nodding her head, she followed them to the room the boy was staying in and with a sigh mentally reorganized the shopping list she kept in her head. _What would a young boy need for a long journey West?_ James placed a kiss upon her cheek as the two men stomped back down the stairs, and she could hear their low spoken voices drifting up from the parlour sitting room. When she entered the room to inquire who would be present for the dinner hour, both men immediately stopped talking and turned their gazes towards her. After James informed that all would be present for dinner, but that the men would be going out later in the evening, she nodded and headed to the kitchen to check on the gumbo that had been on the stove since after the lunch hour. A few snippets of their resumed conversation reached her ears, though she truly tried not to eavesdrop. Much.

“What does William say?”

“Only that we must assume that all our movements are being watched. The only question is by whom.”

“They won’t wait long James, the war is about to hit this city. The river guides have said more English ships, as many as forty counted now around Lake Borgne, are sailing into strategic positions in the surrounding channels and lakes.”

James pointed a finger, his gaze upon the vaulted ceiling. “Ahhh, but a war might prove advantageous for anyone wishing to escape the city undetected. The King’s men at least will be otherwise occupied.”

Atticus grinned, impressed as always with James keen insights and strategies. 

“We’ll have to sail soon before the rivers are blocked.” James grunted in reply. “Bill has agreed to sail around Cape Horn. I know you wanted me to sail her James, but I’d feel much better traveling West. You’ll need someone to watch yer back.” 

James stared quietly and then nodded his head. He wasn’t sure if this loyalty was out of respect for his father, or to himself; but the truth he still had use of the man could not be denied. They would have safety in numbers during the long journey across the land.

“Prepare the ship quickly Atticus. I want her sailing out of port by the week end. I’ll make a point of being seen boarding during the day, and slip quietly away at night before she sails. Hopefully that will suffice to convince any interested parties.”

Atticus nodded and took his leave, while James wandered cautiously into the kitchen, finding Lorna peeling potatoes while Robert’s head bent to his studies at the small table. The whistling of the tea kettle upon the stove greeted him as he sat across the table from the boy, long legs stretched forth and contemplating the easy manner of the domestic scene. He tried to remember a similar time in his childhood, but his mind could not call forth any such memory. As he reached for the teacup she set before him - her dainty fingers brushing along his arm - he realized with some surprise he was feeling quite content in such moments and a new eagerness for the journey to be completed settled in his bones.

~

Cholmondeley had clearly recuperated sufficiently to be holding a drink in each hand, and a woman tucked under each arm, as he sang loudly along to a song he knew neither tune nor words. In a corner table Godfrey was involved in a game of cards, his “skills” learned at the Molly house proving quite advantageous at the moment. Atticus stood nearby having a rare night of indulgence, yet ever ready for a sign of trouble should the participants protest as to the unlikely nature of their continued losing streak. James and William leaned against the wooden bar, nursing their drinks while their eyes continually scanned the crowded establishment. Already they had both noted the same group of men at each tavern they had visited this evening. William whispering at one point that he had seen one of the men about the Market the other day while he shopped for supplies. Realizing it was no longer a subtle fact that they were being followed and watched, his hand had been resting upon his hip where his sword was hanging this evening. He glanced down at the knives in their scabbards around James waist.

“I do hope you’ve brought more than knives to what might be a gun fight James.”

James eyes crossed from the group of men he sent silent daggers towards and met William’s. He said nothing, only dipped his gaze towards the sword, and then slowly rolled his gaze about the tavern before only grunting and taking another drink. 

“Oh I am prepared for all things James, I was once a good little soldier too.”

The barest crack of a smile split James mouth and he turned his gaze instead towards the card game in the corner. His thoughts turning to the house and the gnawing ache in his gut that Lorna and Robert were alone within it. Hopefully Bill and Pearle had arrived as promised, but a nagging worry still remained to ruin his enjoyment of the evening. He willed Godfrey to end his game quickly, eager to be back in the comfy bed with a willing and loving warm, soft form beneath him. As if reading his thoughts, William clamped a hand on his shoulder.

“Bill will take good care of them James, try to enjoy the night. It may be our last in civilized company for some time.”

Both men couldn’t help but chuckle at his use of the word, since the behavior of many revelers had already turned bawdy and bold in the darkened corners. It was with a great sigh of relief that Godfrey ended his game, much fuller of pocket and Cholmondeley barely able to stand, let alone be of any further use to the company he sought, finally deemed the nights fun come to an end. The group exited the tavern, half of them walking easily, the other half stumbling down the cobbled street. They had only traveled a short distance when suddenly the group of men from the bar stepped from the shadows, blocking their passage. Seeing their raised guns, James noted with a side glance that William’s hand had reached for his hip that bore his gun holster; feet in a wide stance and his body slightly turned. _Ever the soldier it seems._ James stood quietly still as the one man approached and stood directly before him.

“I heard you’re a good man to know if someone is looking for gunpowder these days. Short supply during time of war, and yet I hear you got a ship full, non amie?”

James eyes narrowed. “And who tells you such shit?”

The man laughed out loud and glanced around the group, before his eyes settled on the swaying chemist.

“Aye, you the one that makes things go boom, non?” He shook his head and laughed at the small man who appeared to have trouble focusing. “Now that’s another handy talent during a time of war, methinks, eh friends?”

William had moved to step between the man and James, his full height and regal bearing a formidable presence, but the man only laughed and ignored the intended threat.

“At ease mon amie, I got no beef with the rest of ya,” his gaze swiveled back to James, “unless any more of ya could fetch me some coin for yer heads.”

James remained stoic, his eyes shifting about the group and mind racing to find a way out of their predicament. He was confident if he made a move both William and Atticus would be right in step, but the other two were hardly worth their weight in a fight. The man grew impatient with his silence and lack of fear.

“Shame ya ain’t got that lovely red bird out with ya this evening.” James head quickly turned back and his eyes narrowed dangerously, both hands settling on the hilt of his knives. “Oui, une belle fille. A man should be careful with such a fair piece. Make sure nothing bad happen, non?”

A group of British soldiers suddenly entered the street and the man held his gun low while he slowly backed away from the group. He and his band of thugs making a hasty retreat. Before they were mere feet away, James had already turned on his heel; running swiftly towards the street that lead to their rented house. William close on his heels. Atticus slipped quietly into the shadows in the direction the group of assailants had disappeared. Cholmondeley and Godfrey followed at a much slower pace, though there was no less concern etched on their faces. 

James was only a short distance from the house when the shot rang out loud in the quiet streets. His long legs carrying him over several steps of the front porch, and he heard William only a few feet behind. 

The two of them breached the front door just in time to see the two dark figures exit via the back door at the end of the long hallway. Stepping into the front parlour, they stopped short as they were met with the sights of the raised pistol in the boy’s hands; smoke still circling from its muzzle. 

Eyes wide in his pale face where he stood guard over Lorna’s prone body upon the wooden floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the early 19th century, Rose Nicaud, who had earned her freedom from slavery, set up a portable coffee stand near the French Market that was so successful that many more free women of color set up their own stands, serving their own coffee blends.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself, worried and TLC James is almost a greater force to be reckoned with than knife wielding James. 
> 
> It's a long one..... but all building towards something. 
> 
> Warnings: mentions of violence, NSFW

Time stood still as the room slid slowly in and out of focus. Unsure whether it was the world that was melting away, or if it was himself that was fading back into its blurred edges. His mother’s painted face frozen in a silent scream swam before him; the notes of her song blocking any noise within the room. Stuck in the void – this black hole inside his head that threatened to swallow all his hopes and dreams. Caught and bound by the emptiness burning in his lungs and his heart thumping against his chest so hard his ribs threatened to crack. His world was disappearing before his widened gaze still locked with the boys own. The nothingness of his soul threatening to keep him rooted in the entrance way, while she lay motionless and he glimpsed the future that loomed before him. Without her. 

That sudden realization hauling him back to the present as the blood once more jerked within his veins and pulsed him forward to her side. Knees hitting the hard wooden floor with a thud, and for the first time James released a grunt those around him understood. Felt to the core of their own being as he lifted her into the cradle of his arms, her head lolling down upon his chest. Shaking hands pushed the loosened, tangled tresses back from a face smeared with blood, and his heart twisted and sunk to see her busted and bloodied mouth; even as beneath the tender notions a swirling rage began to bubble. A gentle finger touched the swollen bottom lip as he called her name and squeezed her closer. At no response, his eyes briefly traveled her body in search of any other wounds and finding nothing his eyes sought the boys once again.

“The shot?”

Robert’s head shook back and forth and James was surprised that there was no fear to be found. “That were me Mr. Delaney. I heard noises from upstairs. When they entered the house and her telling them to leave. She stood up to them sir. Fought ‘em hard she did, but they were too strong and I fetched yer gun Sir.” 

_Of course she stood up to them - with the boy in the house_ , James thought with equal parts pride and pain.

Robert came to kneel on the other side and touched Lorna’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Sir, but when I heard her screaming I knew she needed my help.” His young eyes brimmed at the edges and James heart clenched that he had seen this violence against someone he loved, even as he also swelled with pride at the boys’ quick actions. “They were hurting her… hit her so hard she fell and hit her head on the table. So…. I shot at them Sir. But, I think I missed.” His head hung low at the idea he had failed both of them. The two people he loved more than anything in the world.

It was more words than he’d ever heard from the boy in a single moment. James reached across and squeezed the boys’ shoulder. “You did good Robert. You did really good and no doubt saved her from a worse fate.”

The boy managed a weak smile and stretched his own hand towards her temple, where James now saw most of the blood flowed from a gash on the left side of her brow. The gun still clasped in the boy’s other hand was suddenly replaced with a clean handkerchief and James lifted his eyes to meet William’s darkened gaze upon him. He didn’t need to read minds to know the blame for this act would be placed squarely upon his own shoulders. With a sigh he reached across and lifted Robert’s hand to her wound.

“Firm but gentle pressure.”

Robert’s mouth fixed a grim line as he followed James instructions.

“Will she be alright Sir?”

James looked down at the lashes resting on pale cheeks, but he could feel the shallow, even rhythm of her breathing within his arms. The steady beat of her heart pressed against his chest.

“I think so. Just needs a few minutes.”

A sudden banging of the front door had them all jumping and William swung around with both arms raised, his own pistol in one hand and Robert’s in another: straight into the breathless and startled faces of Godfrey and Cholmondeley. The latter quickly assessed the situation even in his inebriated state and crossed to where James still held Lorna’s unconscious body in his arms. He gently lifted the cloth the boy still pressed to her temple and assessed the wound with a critical eye, before turning to James.

“How long has she been out?”

James shook his head, “We’ve only been here about five minutes. I don’t know how much longer before then.” His eyes flicked to Robert’s.

“Not much longer before that Sir. Shall I get your bag Doctor?”

Cholmondeley nodded silently, his thumb pressed against one of her slender wrists. “Yes quickly lad.”

Once Robert had cleared the room, he leaned closer to James in hushed tones, his eyes full of anger and pain. “We should move her to a more private room so I can examine her fully James.”

James nostrils flared and his breath halted as the thought she might have been ravished now crossed his mind. His jaw clenched tight and the doctor could see how he fought to retain control on his tortured emotions. His voice croaked a response.

“Judging by what the lad says, there would not have been time … for that.”

His gaze dropped and head bent to press upon her own and the doctor wisely left the issue for now. All was quiet in the room, though they could hear the running feet of Robert coming down the stairs. He charged into the room and practically through himself and the bag down at her side. Reaching into the bag, the doctor withdrew a small glass vial and unscrewed its cap.

“Her breathing and pulse are very good and I doubt she will require stitches for the wound. Just needs a little something to wake her up.” He held the opened vial containing ammonium carbonate mixed with water under Lorna’s nose and waved it back and forth a few times. “Come on sleeping beauty… come back to us.”

He felt James narrowed glare across her body, which slowly began to stir when the “smelling salts” triggered a large inhaled breath that was only slightly bigger than James own. He pulled her closer, whispering her name as her eyelids fluttered open. His heart clenched when her eyes softened in recognition and the briefest of smiles stretched her mouth, until a painful wince halted its progress. Then her eyes flew open alight with panic and she clutched at his arm, desperation in her voice.

“Robert! He came into the room….”

“I’m here Ms. Lorna.” Robert settled closer to her side as the doctor moved away, and Lorna pulled him down and kissed his forehead.

“Oh, you brave, brave boy. Scared the hell out of me you did.” But her words were softened by the look of love she held and the way her hand smoothed the hair of his head. “My brave young knight.”

Robert beamed with pride at her praise and James felt his trepidation ebb away; replaced with a burning lust for revenge against the ones who had threatened the ones he held dearest. They would die when he found them. It was as simple as that. His own hand joined hers to ruffle though the boy’s thick hair and then his mouth dropped to press a kiss upon her forehead. The eyes that searched his own still appearing somewhat blurred and unfocused; but no less full of love. He cradled her about the shoulders with one arm, while the other took position behind her knees.

“Let’s get you more comfortable my love, shall we?”

He lifted her easily into his arms and bore his burden towards the settee that occupied the far corner of the parlour, where he lay her gently down. Standing beside her with one hand still retained within his own, he allowed the small amount of space beside her for the boy who immediately tucked in close. Pressing the cloth to her brow once more. Cholmondeley once again appeared at her side lifting questioning eyes to James.

“If I may speak with my patient?” His voice dipped low. “In private James?”

With some reluctance James kissed her hand before releasing it and pulled Robert along with him to the other side of the room to join the others who were already whispering among themselves in hushed tones. James stood quietly listening to their various theories regarding Company or Crown, but the whole time conscious of the accusing weight of William’s gaze upon him. The gentleman’s hand rested on his hip – as though his mind automatically shifted into fight mode and sought the comforting presence of his favoured weapon. The implication clear and he felt the fragile thread of trust that had begun between them dissolve under the man’s heated glare. The unspoken accusations firing within his head so loudly the man had no need to utter them. His stride was swift and purposeful as William strode past; his shoulder forcefully glancing off James own and his eyes glowering dangerously. James took the blow though his eyes met the challenge with a careless fire burning in their depths. They paused momentarily, locked in a silent battle and Lorna’s breath held in her lungs as she witnessed the exchange from across the room. A fear for James rising within her chest as she saw the straightness of Williams back and the way he stared down upon James, as though he suddenly realized such a man was beneath him. With a loud exhale, William gave a final glance around the room, eyes briefly resting on her worried gaze, and then his booted steps loud in the entry, followed by the bone jarring crash of the front door. 

Lorna met James gaze across the room and for the first time the flicker between them fell silent. Though she could see the tense set of his jaw and the worry in his eyes as they lingered on her swollen lip. Fighting her own fear and worry, she softened her gaze; willing him to see that she held no blame towards him for this latest act. She strung the thread between them back to taut, willing him to meet her on its fragile slope. It was still her choice. He was still her choice.

_She is yours._

She caught the briefest hint of a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth, before he left the group without a word and crossed back to where she lay. His questioning gaze upon the doctor as he waited. Cholmondeley turned in exasperation of being interrupted. 

“Yes, she will be fine. Just watch her closely over the night.”

James smile came easily as he bent to lift her into his arms once again and wordlessly left the parlour. Suddenly loathe to share these moments with the others. No one stopped or questioned him. He only paused briefly to crook a finger in Robert’s direction, and together they ascended the stairs. James hushing Lorna’s protests with each step and Robert clinging to her hand until he was safely inside his own chamber. James promising to fetch him if anything should change in her condition. His eyes held her as close as his arms.

“You next to bed beautiful dreamer.”

Once more her smile was more a pained wince, but her free hand wrapped around his neck tight and she snuggled closer. James kicked the door to the bedchamber open and carefully made his way through the darkened room until he found the edge of the bed. Laying her gently down upon the soft mattress. 

“Don’t go anywhere love. I’ll get some light.”

She lay back against the many soft pillows, as James moved about the room lighting several candles. Though a fire might prove a soothing and calming balm to their spirits, it was far too hot during the summer nights in the South. He returned to the bed, eyes seeking her own and he could see the pull towards sleep she fought. Kneeling upon the edge, he kissed each lid.

“Keep them closed. I’ll be here.”

Her hand reached up to his cheek, “James, this is not your fault.”

The brush of his lips upon her own silenced her words. Feather-light so as to not hurt her injuries further. Fighting back both tears and a driving urge to take her into his arms and chase away the terror of the night with his body wrapped around her own. Leaning back he kept a finger pressed gently against her bruised mouth.

“No talk tonight Lorna. I need you to rest. Please do that for me.”

Eyes still squeezed closed she nodded and settled further into the soft pillows. Satisfied James leaned down and brushed a kiss upon her bandaged brow, his mouth caressing down to her ear.

“You are my life. I cannot lose you my love.”

Her hand lifted to press against his heart, and James clasped it to entwine their fingers tight. For a few moments he lingered until her breathing steadied and then pressed a final kiss to the tender skin. Leaving the bedside to settle within the deep cushions of the oversized chair beside the window. Leaning back, eyes resting on her still form, his thoughts drifted wide.

Watching her closely was exactly what he was planning to do. For this night he would drink in every line and curve of her form; each soft strand of cinnamon curls, and that laugh line that still begged to be touched. Another time he would hold her close and state his love over and over until the haunted look she tried to conceal dissolved from her gaze. His resolve was firm now - he would do whatever it took, no matter the cost to him, to keep her safe. A quick grin flashed in the dark, knowing her feisty nature would fight him every inch of the way. Her tender heart wanting to shower him in its own caring shroud. That part of her that would have sat in a chair beside him; staying until the soldiers arrived at the bitter end. No one but her had ever stood so proudly by his side and his heart swelled that they should fight so hard for each other. The boyish heart that missed a mother’s early loving care and guidance so much he had traveled all the way into hell to find a replacement — now full grown in both awareness and acceptance of how love moves and what it requires to keep it safe. 

She would protest, but he would win. 

He’d be strong enough to do what needed to be done. 

~

It was a quiet group that met around the breakfast table the next morning. Each one staring wordlessly into their china cups and feeling the weight of uncertainty regarding their next steps – and the safety of all. Lorna remained resting in bed while Robert fixed her a tray full of just about all her favourite foods, until James finally halted his next trip to the pantry. Adding a cup of tea to the tray, he nodded and the boy headed up the stairs to their chamber. Atticus arrived to inform that the ship was close to ready for sailing. Also that Bill had informed him that he and Pearle were being followed as they walked to the house the previous evening, and thus had returned to the ship rather than lead anyone to their location. Then he gave a subtle nod of his head, and he and James disappeared into a study located off the main hallway. He had followed the group of assailants for as long as he could without being caught and informed James as to where they had entered a dwelling. James nodded, eyes dark and flashing a gathering storm in their depths and once again the hardened criminal felt the shivers on the back of his neck. The Devil Delaney was rising again. Exiting the room he tossed a quick “watch her Atticus” over his shoulder and then his footsteps echoed loudly throughout the house as he bounded up the stairs. He gathered a few items within their chambers, Lorna’s eyes watching as he fastened the knives about his waist, a silent look exchanged between them. She simply nodded her head, knowing what he would need to do. He crossed the room and patted the boy upon the back before bending over to press a kiss to her bruised mouth. A murmured _I will find them_ , and then he left as quickly as he came. Robert took her hand in his own small ones, promising to remain until James returned. 

She didn’t doubt either man’s promise.

~

The blood dripped thickly from his knives as he emerged from the small Creole cottage with its faded siding; wiping the blades against the climbing rose that wound its thorny blooms about the ornate balustrade. A grunt escaped as his eyes scanned the area to ensure no one had heard any of the muffled screams from within the dwelling. He had acted fast; years of hunting the forests and jungles had honed his reflexes to lightning speed and very effective killing methods. The skill of knowing how to take a prey down quickly and silence it forever still fresh in his memory, as if it were only yesterday his bare feet stalked prey over endless plains of hot sand. A disappointed grunt emitted – it was almost too easy. These pirates for hire that had grown fat on the city’s rich fare and slow witted on rum and women. At least he knew now this ragged lot came calling courtesy of the Company, which explained why they had run scared when the British soldiers had arrived. _So the honourable Company was for pure revenge and the bloated Prinny was for his head._ With a wry grin the thought came in his twisted mind: didn’t they know there was a war going on? He continued on the down the street, eager to return to the house, when an unsettled feeling washed over. He paused his steps, head slightly slanted.

He was being followed.

The footsteps echoing behind him so loudly he wondered if the person had any intention of concealing his presence. James frowned as he continued down the darkening streets, eyes darting around corners and into alleys of the Market. He still had much to do before he was due to board the ship in order to appear as though he was sailing away. He fingered the hilt of the knives only returned to their resting place moments prior. Only days away from departure and he hoped, as he listened to the even thud of boots behind him, he could keep his head intact prior to the leaving. All of a sudden the tension that had been building surged inside him and though his head spared a moment in attempt to reason with him, he was turning about on his heel prepared to do something foolish.

With a snarl he closed the space between himself and his follower, knives already freed from their scabbards and turning in his hands as he grabbed the man by the lapels and lifted glowing dark eyes upward.

To meet the startled but no less fiercely determined gaze of Lord William Johnston. Who never reached for any weapon, though James still retreated several steps purely in surprise. His gaze flicked downward and noted the absence of the long sword on his hip.

“You are following me. Perhaps you think that some good will come of it, but I promise you… it will not.”

A smirk broke the tense lines of the man’s jaw. “If I can follow you so easily James, surely another could also.” His eyes narrowed as he cautiously drew nearer. “At least you can be sure I won’t separate your head from your shoulders for a few coins.”

James grunted and peered beneath the low brim of his hat, “Can I William… be sure?”

“You were never my concern James. You still are not.” His voice suddenly thick and low. “And I warned you, as one gentleman to another, as long as she remained safe, I would not interfere.”

James jaw worked back and forth, his teeth grinding as the silence stretched and the two men glared a stalemate. A few odd noises that sounded half like laughter and half his typical grunting tick, and James finally spread his hands wide.

“You did, yes. You forget something don’t you?” James stepped closer, his head bent low. “I am no gentleman.”

Quick as lightning he brought his head up fast and hard to connect with William’s chin; hearing the satisfying clash of teeth against one another. Before the man could gather his senses, James landed a blow upon his jaw with the metal edge of a knife enclosed about his knuckles that rocked the other back on his heels. Taking advantage of his off balance form, James kicked his boot into the middle of his chest and the air left William’s body in a great whoosh. His eyes briefly wild with surprise at being caught off guard, then slamming closed as another blow landed upon his sturdy jaw and his body feel backwards upon the dusty street. James quickly bent and grabbed his legs, pulling him into a nearby building.

It was quite some time later that James exited the building – alone.

~

By the dinner hour the group had somewhat managed to find ease in their spirits, largely due to the delicious aroma drifting from the kitchen as Lorna had insisted she felt much better and in no way was going to allow a swollen lip, or a few ducks to get the better of her - again. Both James and Robert fussed and hovered close by until after tripping or bumping into one or the other for about the dozen time, she finally attempted to shoo them from her kitchen. The two exchanged a glance and instead settled themselves at the small table, the Delaney glare focused on her in double and she threw her hands up in defeat.

“Fine, but if you get in my way, you’ll be shucking peas until sunset.” 

She laughed aloud when the two feigned fear and then both chuckled at what they knew was an idle threat. Robert reached for a deck of cards and James grunted as he took them in his own hands to shuffle. The comfort and warmth of the scene doing much to ease any lingering anxiety from their collective minds. The jovial sounds from the parlour where the rest had gathered adding to the overall sense of familiar ease and comfort. Her eyes grew misty as she thought of how far they had all come, and that they were still together in this brave new venture. She would miss James tomorrow while he went to his ship, but by the dawning of the next day they would start their journey Westward. Her bruised mouth set in a firm line as she pushed that foreboding sense that had lingered in the recesses of her mind back once again. He had said nothing upon his return, but she had not missed the cleaning of his knives at the kitchen sink. Her palm swiped across brimming eyes at the thought they might not escape; either before James was taken again – or this blasted war marched upon the city. Her eyes met James across the room and at his look of concern, she held up the onion she had been cutting and he chuckled softly. She didn’t feel like she was hiding anything from him – the buggers did make your eyes water afterall.

In truth, she was loathe to ruin what would be their last meal together under one roof for quite some time. The actress had a performance tonight, and all would fall under her beguiling spell.

~

“You are most charming when you desire it my love.” His voice deep and low and sparking desire throughout every cell in her body as his arms circled about her waist and lips caressed the bare flesh of her shoulder.

Her hands stilled in the hot sudsy water and reached up to touch his cheeks and James jerked away with a grunted laugh at the amount of suds that came with them. She turned around and added her own laughter to see the bubbles clinging along his whiskered jaw and mouth. Another grunted _muuahh_ and he suddenly lunged forward, grasping her about the waist as he rubbed his face all over her throat and chest until it was covered in the soapy remains. Her head tipped back at the tickling sensation of his beard upon her tender flesh, quickly morphing into a low moan when he replaced it with his full mouth. Pressing her back up against the counter, they traveled up to her tender mouth, kissing the injured place gently before testing them with soft nibbles. Sighing deeply as she leaned into him, pushing any sense of pain away; desperate for the time his mouth could ravish her own again. He kept the pressure gentle and slow but still the flames leaped to life between them, his arousal long and thick against her thigh. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against her own, gazes briefly locked before his eyes closed and they stood locked close and gently swaying with the crickets and cicadas keeping time in the shadowed gardens beyond. Everything but this moment between them falling silent and fading away, but the welling intensity between them building to a fierce yearning. 

“Why don’t you go on upstairs and I will finish here, hhhmm.”

Her mouth opened to protest, but the gaze in his eyes promised this night was far from over, and feeling the weariness in her feet from hours standing on the hard floor, she silently nodded. Placing a lingering kiss that told him in no uncertain terms would he find her sleeping when he came to their bed chamber.

~

When James quietly opened the door, he was greeted with the vision of lightly golden flesh lay bare upon the bed. She was lying down on her stomach, head turned to peer over a shoulder and eyes shining in the candle lit room. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than his love waiting naked and willing for his attentions. He closed and locked the door behind him, quickly crossing the room even as clothes were hastily discarded with each step. Hungry eyes raked over the slender calves; the perfectly rounded ass, and along the long curve of her back adorned with the flaming curls. Coming to the edge of the bed his fingers now traced each line again, a warm palm resting on her hip as he leaned down and kissed first one, then the other, of the small indentations upon her lower back. Her moan muffled by the pillows and smiling softly at the response he has garnered, the hot breath of his mouth continued up the slender slope until he reached the tender skin behind her ear. Still bending over, he nibbled on the earlobe, gently tugging while his tongue glided over the sensitive skin. She twisted and moaned upon the bed, hands reaching for the thick hardened shaft that was level with the bed’s edge. A wanton gleam in her eyes as she held his gaze while leaning forward and taking the tip into her warm mouth. Her tongue swirled along the bundle of nerves on the underside and with a loud groan, James knees buckled against the edge of the bed, while his hands twisted into the tight curls at the back of her head. He held back from thrusting out of concern for her tender mouth and the resulting slow sucking she employed proved the sweetest torture he’d ever endured. He moaned and sighed deeply, burning in his passion and seeing the blaze he stoked within her gaze that pierced his own. With a deep groan he pulled his throbbing hardness from the moist warm cavern, and pulled her up against his naked chest. The words rasped from his throat.

“I need inside you … I need you love.”

He eased his weight down upon the bed while she shifted back to make room. For a moment they lay naked on their sides with gazes locked and James stroked along her injured temple. His fingers trailed down the gentle curve of her cheek and across the cut lips to press upon the fullness there. 

“I know you found them James.”

“Uh, hhhmm.” 

Her own hand reached up to cup his cheek, a finger rested upon the scar beneath his eye. Each holding the hurts of the other so that what was once irreparably broken sank down into the love that covered over. His hands moved to trace all her lines and curves, slowly skimming over flesh that shivered under his touch. His heart beating fast, still amazed at how she opens to him like a blossoming flower and the man this chaotic world demands him to be dies another death. _How many times does he have to kill that twisted side of him?_ As many times as she needs him to. She notices the change in his eyes. How they shift from darkly burdened to the vulnerable shade that allows the light to pierce their depths. And in this silent exchange is where they find each other. His hands pulling her closer to him with each passing touch, until she melts into his form. For a few moments they just held each other in the dimly lit room. Desperate to memorize every detail of the other and safely store it away from hands that would tear it asunder. In this time of uncertainty, resting in the only truth they know; and that is the sureness of each other. Holding her close, his mouth pressed upon her temple, still hardly daring to believe in this spark that ignited the light in him that should have extinguished a long time ago.

She shifted back and drew him to her with her eyes. Rolling her gently upon her back, his hard body reclaimed hers with a fierceness that sent them both into a dizzy pitch. His body pushed into hers engulfing both their senses and stealing away the worries of tomorrow. Their love an intoxicating scent that over shadowed all else as their bodies move together in this natural rhythm binding them forever. Sheathed deep inside and James eyes studied her closely as every slow thrust altered her breathing. Pressed so close her moans timed with his own rasped breathing. He watched every reaction his mouth, tongue, fingers and hard thrusts drew forth as they moved softly together. Loving her as much with his eyes as his body that pulled her along into the deepest and most sensual intimacy they’d yet known. Her hands alight on his face, over the broad flesh of his shoulders and down the strong ripples of his back to grasp his bottom and urge him deeper. His brain set on fire as he smiled down upon her glowing skin – his angel with fingertips made of flames. Their pleasure building fast and he leans down to murmur the words that had lodged in his throat earlier.

“I think I will die if I can’t make love to you as often as I want.”

His head dropped to the curve of her neck and for a moment his thrusts paused, though he still was so deep inside she could feel the pulsing and throbbing upon her walls. She heard the deep inhale of choked breath.

“I don’t deserve this… love… you.”

Overcome by the depth of his words she blinked back tears to hear his self-loathing expressed so painfully in these beautiful moments. Sure of the strength of their union, she pulled his gaze to her once again.

“You fill me so completely James. In so many ways… and you don’t even know.” 

Her mouth, caring not for any lingering pain, pressed upon his own and felt the clinging of his lips before she pulled away. “You are not that man anymore. He’s dead. Nor are you the things you did. This …. this right here is Life James.” Her hand caressed his face, smoothed the unruly spikes of hair at the back of his head and finally pulled him back to her mouth. “And you breathed life into me too, my love.”

His voice broke, but she heard the words “my love” before their mouths merged again. They drank deeply of one another until doubts and unworthiness and their sharp talons were banished to their cages. If Lorna could, she would throw away the key to spare him from their relentless pecking upon his soul. But she knew deep down this battle was a marathon and one she was prepared to run as long as he needed. 

Pressing her hips against his own as he began to move again, the pace quicker as passion soared higher with the words released. His hands covered every inch of her skin and his mouth followed behind. Warm breath upon her face where he cradled her close so he could continue pouring words of love into her soul. She arched against him when his mouth latched onto a breast. The strength of what was building inside her almost staggering. Her whole body feeling it might be blown to dust under the sweet and slow thrusts he lavished upon her. Her hands glided over every muscle pulled taut; the groans sounding low in his throat. He reveled in the sounds he could pull from her; raw, intense delicious noises that demonstrated the pleasure dissolving her beneath the plundering force of his bold blade. When she yanked on his hair, he knew those moans would soon turn to one long high pitched cry as her climax shattered. Legs shaking around his waist, her hair a wild tumble, and her face glowing – he smiled down as she gazed breathless back at him. Saw the glazed look as his thrust continued, having held back his own release because there was nothing more rapturous to him than watching her come undone in his arms. Her head tipped back and she moaned his name into the pillows propped behind. He chuckled softly.

“When I said I needed inside you, I neglected to add the All Night part love.”

His confidence soared once more to see her eyes roll back in her head when his pace increased. Reaching down, he yanked her limp form up into his arms and guided her still shaky limbs to straddle his waist. His teeth nipped against the soft flesh of her throat and growled into the tender skin, as his hands settled to guide her hips.

“Come on love, show me how much you love me. How you want me as I want you.”

Her head snapped up to meet his gaze and he almost spurted his hot release inside when he saw the determined and wanton glint in her eyes. The red tendrils framing her face in wild disarray and floating about them as her hips ground down hard and fast upon his throbbing shaft. Pulling him deeper, his hands digging into her soft skin and holding her fast against his straining body. The pleasure found there almost too much to bear.

Almost.

But he held on until the end came crashing upon him in waves that seemed never ending and she joined him on the crest once more as they tumbled over and over into the bliss. Their bodies cooling in the night air while they lay and shared more words from the depths of their hearts. Eager to begin their next steps together. Until they reached for one another in the dark and the whole slow and sensual scene repeated, as the night crept slowly across the shadowed walls that sheltered them from the cruel world outside. Exhausted they fell upon the bed, bundled close to one another, their bodies a perfect fit as their hearts. 

She awakened as the muted tones of dawn peeked through the curtained windows, and the press of his arousal against her stomach. Peeling sleepy eyes open to find his gaze resting softly upon her, an easy grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. A whispered _morning beautiful. I love you,_ and her breath caught as desire sparked through her entire body. She mouthed the words back to him with her crooked smile revealing itself once more. His hand reached down to lift a slender leg wide and rest it upon his hip; fingers gliding down the length to rub along the delicate pink lips of her centre. Parting her gently as her arousal flowed out around them, easing their entry inside the sublime hot tightness he craved to be lost in forever. His mouth slanted across her own, desperate to fully possess those soft lips; tongue mimicking the thrusting of his fingers deep inside. She felt the thump of his hard cock against her thigh, knew he was already at the edge and reached down to stroke its velvet smooth length. He groaned a yes love against her mouth and shifted his hips to press against the slick entry. Her hand guided him inside and her thighs adjusted to accommodate his hips, her own slowly rotating as his thrusts began. He held her close on their sides so that they could touch, kiss and look at one another while he stroked their passion onward. Feeling all of each other in every way.

She purred deep in her throat, the new position drawing the sweetest sensations as he slowly glided in and out of her. Arching and stretching beside him and his eyes took on the wild look of a man who was desperately holding himself in check. Her hand glided down the firm, expanse of his chest to reach where they were joined, skimming over his pulsing length as it withdrew, before settling on her clit. James I need you. His breath caught in a deep groan as she rubbed herself in time with his thrusts, sending them both spiraling into mutual climax. His hands dug into her hair and held on tight as it rocked through his entire body, her own clenching pulling him so deep he could feel the press of her cervix dipping down upon the tip of his cock. Both of them throbbing with need to their cores. It took several moments for them to both float down gently, and he kissed her softly. Tugging sweetly at her lips with his own. Their hands freely roamed over one another, while he softened inside her. His fingers brushed against a nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and finger. Felt it harden. Desire sparked in her eyes. She had more to give him. Smiling he rolled her onto her back, while his mouth began a slow teasing decent down her curves.

When they finally lay entwined and sleepy once more, his mind replayed their lovemaking while she slowly succumbed to the pull of dreams. As he gazed down on her, love spilling with every beat of his heart, he knew he’d replay this night numerous times during the long months on the trail that lay ahead.

And he had learned another truth about this love she gifted him: she always had more to give.   
In fact, he was desperately counting on it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A character in danger - a most foul betrayal.
> 
> It's getting very #%@ real now.

The water was rising again.

Stuck in this same churning and brackish tide so that her steps were unsure. Unsteady. There’s only two choices: go back to the safety of the shore; or press onward. Forward, always forward. _Or you can just let go… let the water take you. No! Never that – only onward._ A woman waits on the far shore; hair braided in two long lengths and her young face shining hopeful. Her hand beckons forward and another step is taken. The notes of her song encouraging the slow progress and another sound rises from the forest beyond. A familiar chanting floats at the edges of the dream, blending with the woman’s song and she watches as the water recedes. It’s weed depths now visible and her pace quickens until the shore is gained. The woman is gone, but the chant calls her forth into the woods. The dream takes on another quality – as if all the colours of the world have been adjusted by a lone painter grown bored with “evergreen” or “ocean blue” and has swiped his brush dripping in newly birthed tones across the landscape. Time slows down and she waits for the shot telling her once again she is too late – but nothing breaks the quiet stillness of the scene. Just the chant which grows louder. Reaching out to her and sending both shivers and a calmness throughout her body. _It’ not too late. I’m not too late. He’s alive._ The chant intensifies; so close she can almost feel the breath of the words upon her cheek. _He’s… here._

Lorna’s eyes flew open and immediately focused on the small fire that burned across the room. And the bronzed, naked from that crouched before the flames. Shaking free from the nightmare’s grip, she sat up in the bed and let the unknown words chase the negative spirits away. James did not turn to glance at her tonight; his whole body held in a way that indicated he needed to be alone in this spirit journey. She tucked her legs beneath her and watched him quietly for a few moments, before her eyes drifted closed and she simply listened to the Twi language fall as easily from his mouth as his mother tongue. 

Later, as the morning sun crept upon the land, she barely even registered the feeling of his hands sliding up her bare arms, or the soft kiss before she was once against snuggled safe against his warm chest and fell into a dreamless sleep.

~

December 12, 1814

The breakfast hour was devoted almost entirely towards two subjects; the necessary preparations still to be done, and the increasing number of British ships appearing in the surrounding lakes. James now informed the group that they would not be returning to the house after this evening. It was only a matter of time before other hired thugs, or either those representing Crown or Company returned. Horses and wagons for the journey were safely stowed away in a nearby Carriage House. Cholmondeley and Godfrey were tasked with getting all their belongings and necessities for the first half of the journey to the location, while James returned to the ship until he could slip away under cover of darkness to await them at the Carriage House. The ship would sail at first light – hopefully under the watchful eyes of both Crown and Company thinking James aboard. Everyone was to leave the house at different times, traveling different routes to the hiding place. If Cholmondeley and Godfrey took a small detour through some taverns; than all the better to appear normal. James wagged a finger before both gentleman.

“Before dawn gentleman. We leave with or without you, hhhmm?”

A guide James had hired for his knowledge of getting them out of the city via lesser known travel routes, would take Lorna and Robert to the meeting place. James turned to both.

“You are to be packed and ready before this morning is done. He will come whenever he determines it safe.”

They both nodded, but after taking a deep breath, Lorna quietly asked.

“James… what of William? Has he decided against the journey West?”

All eyes turned to James as he remained silently returning her gaze; almost as if he was daring her to ask again. The tension between the two men the previous evening was not missed by anyone present, and they wondered if it had caused a conflict between her and James. His eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair, a coldness creeping throughout her frame.

“His Lordship, William, Sir Pirate.. friend? Whatever you may have called him Madam – he’s no longer of our concern.”

“But James… I don’t understand. Surely he cannot blame you…”

“Lorna, I have no wish to discuss it further. He made a choice. It’s done.” 

With that rather curt dismissal, James left the table without so much as a last look upon her confused and slightly hurt face. His booted feet stomped up the stairs and the slam of a door heard beyond. Her face flushed red and with a quietly mumbled _excuse me gentlemen_ she rose from the table and disappeared into the kitchen. Robert waiting a few moments, his head swiveling from the stairs where James had gone, to the kitchen where the sounds of washing dishes could already be heard. _Sometimes he can be such a jerk to her. Why does he do that?_ Robert briefly met the gazes of the other men before heading straight towards the kitchen. He didn’t even bother with a display of manners - -the only one who cared had already left the table.

~

The bedroom door was pushed open with a firm hand. Though the discussion he knew was coming annoyed him to no small degree, he couldn’t help but smirk that of course after his rather rude brevity to her question, she had found her footing once again. That fiery spirit that would not be tamed, and certainly never by his own hand. He would not wish it so; even though he’d prefer to be spared on this occasion. When he turned to face her, he couldn’t deny he had that look all men have known once or twice when they were keenly aware: _she’s going to yell at me… and I full deserve it._

She only asked a single question though.

“Just answer me one thing, did you part friends or enemies James?”

Taken aback by the directness and the lack of an interrogation of feminine persuasion, James sat upon the edge of the bed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know Lorna. Honestly. I doubt he liked my fist on his jaw, but then he surely should have expected it after his interference. Again.” The last word leveled at her with a stony stare. She nodded.

“I understand then. Thank you for telling me James. I would have worried that he might cause trouble during our departure. Though it seems he has spoken his peace… again.”

She came to sit beside him on the bed, her hand resting over one of his own.

“Words were exchanged. It was not entirely friendly, but it was not entirely hateful either.” He grasped the hand within his own. “He’s not of use to me anymore.”

Once more she nodded and then leaned her head against his shoulder.

“If he cannot accept the way of things, he is no use to either of us James.” She squeezed his hand gently, felt the squeeze he offered as way of some sort of apology in return. “Are you ready to leave for your ship soon?”

His head nodded against her own, and then suddenly he reached back behind him and drew forth a small package, placing it the hand he had been holding. 

“But first, this is for you.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, full of wonder at the unexpected gift. Her other hand automatically reaching to finger the necklace that still lay upon her chest. He tapped the gift.

“Completely unrelated to our present conversation, but something I felt you should have in my absence anyway.”

She unfolded the paper to reveal a curved blade knife much like James own, with a single finger hole at the base of the polished olive wood handle. Looking closely she saw a raven’s head was carved upon the wood and she smiled softly as she traced the intricate lines. The craftsmanship was incredibly beautiful and she turned the blade around to admire the skill that had clearly fashioned it. A scabbard of the softest leather was included and James reached over to finger the piece.

“Much more effective than that small blade you carry beneath your skirts my love.”

“James I don’t know what to say… it’s incredibly beautiful. For something so deadly and God help me but I absolutely love it.” She met his gaze and was touched even more to see the hesitancy that still lingered. “Will you show me how to use it properly?”

The next few minutes passed with some basic instruction; how to conceal it, wield it, and care for the blade itself. She practiced some slashes under his watchful eye, until one rather close call opened a small wound across James palm as he raised a hand a little too close pretending to block a move. She immediately cried out and pulled it forth to kiss the injury, the metallic taste of blood sharp on her tongue. James eyes briefly darkened, recalling his own actions upon her finger pricked by a needle, and for a moment they both stood frozen while that passion sent out its call between them. James finally breaking the spell by chuckling softly.

“I assure you madam, I have suffered worse. And well done, I do think you’ve got the hang of it.”

Seeing the liquid pools of those brown orbs still dark, he pulled her into his embrace. “It was supposed to be your Christmas present, but I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh James, yours isn’t finished yet. If I had known…”

His mouth halted her words. “Hhhm, I’ll just take you instead.” 

She waved the knife under his nose in a threatening manner, but the press of her hips against his own gave her true desire away. James easily disarmed her by gently twisting the offending arm behind her back, and the next thing she was pressed face down upon the bed. His other hand already gliding up her skirt and skimming along the soft inner thighs to fondle her delicate skin. He felt fairly confident in his control of the situation, until she turned those challenging eyes to peer at him over her shoulder, bottom lip caught in her even white teeth, and he groaned deep to glimpse the equal need she displayed. The pull on his heart knowing he would be leaving her soon, even if temporary, softened his gaze and her brow furrowed at the change. He leaned low to capture her lips in a slow, teasing kiss.

“I love you – always. Remember - don’t give up on me.”

“I love you too James. And I am quite certain I’ve already proven the other.”

She searched his gaze, but he’d already closed off to her, even as one hand gripped her hip and the other fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. She had expected his rough nature to emerge, but aside from plunging into her in one swift push that made her gasp aloud at the pleasure of being filled so completely by his own bold blade, he was surprisingly gentle during the remainder of their love making. She longed for them to stay abed this entire last day, knowing the chances for privacy upon the trail would be few and far between. Maybe then she could smother whatever it was that caused that wrinkle upon his brow and the muscle that ticked along his jaw; even as he spoke words of love over her.

When they parted with sweet promises and lingering kisses, she still couldn’t shake his words for the remainder of the day. They hovered over her like an ominous cloud and she had the unnerving sense that her next steps would indeed be taken against a rising flood.

~

Lorna stood with arms akimbo, then wiped the sweat that had gathered while she tidied the house from her brow. “Well they were here this morning Godfrey, I saw James and Robert bring them down.”

Godfrey’s own hands went to his hips as turned to face her similar stance.

“Well clearly they are not here now Mrs. Delaney, so it’s of little help where they were this morning.”

“Perhaps James took them when he left for the ship?”

Godfrey exchanged a look with Cholmondeley who merely shrugged his shoulders. “It’s possible, he may of.”

“Why, when he clearly assigned the task of your trunks to us?”

Lorna threw her hands up in exasperation, “Are you sure they are not loaded on the wagon behind the house already?”

Godfrey glared at her in such dramatic fashion she couldn’t help but stifle laughter. “Oh pardon Godders, I’m so sorry, but you just looked like the perfect exasperated Benedick.” She turned once about the space, as if the trunks might magically appear, then sighed as she once again met the confused and tired faces of the two men. “You two must be dreadful tired after so many trips. I’ll go check out back if it will help.”

A quick check of the partially loaded wagon that she and Robert would take when the guide arrived revealed no trunks. She felt both worry and apologetic that an obvious miscommunication meant they would have to take another trip to the Carriage House to ensure that the trunks had been loaded for the journey. It meant additional time alone in the house and she glanced out the front door hoping to see the guide arrive post haste. The streets revealed nothing more than a few neighbours walking to their residence and the odd stray dog sniffing garbage. 

Quickly she put together a boxed lunch of po’ boy sandwiches and cold potato salad for the two men, hoping it would offer some comfort during the extra trip. Though they accepted it gratefully, it was with downcast faces that they took their leave once again. Closing the door behind them, she returned to the bedrooms to ensure nothing had been forgotten. After some general cleaning, she paused in her labours feeling the sudden quietness of the house around her. Had the boy already finished his own tasks? 

Coming down the stairs, she called for Robert, but no answer was given. _Surely he would not have slipped out unnoticed to join Cholmondeley and Godfrey?_ She doubted he would ignore James warning to not leave the house without an escort. Yet room after room revealed no Robert and her calls continued to go unanswered. With panic rising in her throat, she crossed through the dining room and was just stepping down into the kitchen, when her eyes finally rested upon him.

His eyes were huge with terror and it was now apparent the hand William clamped over his mouth had prevented him from answering her calls. Her eyes took in the scene, refusing to believe what they saw … the least of which was the gun William held upon the terrified boy. Anger over rode her sense of fear as the protective instinct rose strong.

“What on earth are you doing?!”

The gun waved in the air back and forth from her own body to the boys’ and her heart stopped every time it’s muzzle came within inches of his slender frame. The stench of urine was strong in the room. She took a step further into the kitchen, then halted as it was pressed into his side. She gasped out loud and William merely heaved a deep sigh.

“Lorna my dear, you are a foolish, foolish woman. You leave me no choice but to show you just how so.”

“Please William. Let Robert go, I will listen to whatever you have to say.”

She dared another step closer and the hand left the boy’s mouth with a hissed _no screaming boy if you have a care for her life,_ and then his arm was twisted painfully behind his back. “I’m afraid the time for listening is long past my dear. You still cannot see the danger he places upon you, and that it is I who cares enough to save you from yourself.” He sneered in contempt. “Your silly girlish notions of love. But do take another step if you wish to test my resolve concerning this bastard further.”

Her heart climbed up into her throat as she met the wide eyed and pain filled gaze of Robert. The utter fear that shone in the brimming wetness of the corners of his huge eyes. More so, the look of complete shock that one of his heroes, a man he had held in such high regard, was now threatening his life — to get to her. That he should know such a betrayal broke her heart… and then she couldn’t help but wonder; just what other evil his hands had done this day.

“Oh William, what have you done?”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEED THE WARNING: ANGST, A CHARACTER DEATH!

His boots echoed over the cries of the gulls that surrounded the fishing boats as he paced upon the deck. Both volume and sight signifying his presence aboard the vessel preparing to sail, for the sole benefit of any watching eyes. Hat pulled low to hide the scan of his eyes through the crowded docks; resting briefly on this man reading a paper, or that one drinking his coffee and gazing out across the water. An odd command barked at a crew member, though Atticus and Bill had matters well in hand. His presence a mere token and James shifted anxiously under the lack of anything constructive to occupy his time. Almost busying himself polishing the chrome just to give his hands and mind something else to focus upon. Now they rubbed against the timepiece he pulled from his pocket; eyes automatically lifting to check the position of the late afternoon sun due to the habit of months of sailing. The guide should have arrived at the house by now. Darkness would fall earlier in this winter month and he could slip away from the ship sooner. Once he had wished that time could stand still; now he wished that it would speed up. 

Leaning against the bow of the boat and facing the mighty river his mind flashed with images of their last evening. Fingers rubbing along the smooth wood of the ship’s lines though in his mind they traced softer lines. Smooth as silk; warm and responsive to his touch. The river breeze carried the memory of whispered caresses and he lifted his face to feel its kiss. He longed to be there to ensure she was safely away. The boy under her capable care. Ill at ease, his weight shifted back and forth, unable to pinpoint the cause of his worry. A nagging sense he had missed something. The unreliable nature of his scattered psyche threatening his confidence in his plan. He was just an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances with nothing but his will and determination to guide him. It had to be enough. He made himself linger instead of relenting to the driving urge to run through the streets. He wanted to be there, but he knew the danger would follow where he led. This self-imposed isolation and separation just another part of a bigger plan. A temporary one he reminded himself, as his fingers scratched along his beard before briefly resting upon lips that still felt the softness of her own.

_I can still feel you, my love._

~

Both the heat and quiet tension grew to suffocating limits within the kitchen. Eyes warily watching William, waiting for an answer while her hand twisted within the folds of her skirt. Fingers tracing the outline of the knife in its scabbard beneath. Her eyes flicked downward to the gun and a wave of helplessness overcame as she realized even the deadly blade was of no match against a bullet. Least of all that the bullet would not be intended for her. Instinct telling her William would not hurt her, for she was the prize. The boy of no consequence beyond being used to force her submission. Willing her hands to rest at her sides so as to not draw attention to the concealed weapon that might prove useful at a later time.

“What have I done my dear? Aaaww, even now his life is of greater concern to you? I assure you madam, he is not of equal feeling.”

Her back stiffened at the veiled implication, “What have you done to James?”

William snorted out loud, his hand gripping the boy’s arm tightly and causing him to cry out. He never even glanced his way as he focused instead on what would hurt her most. “I’ve done nothing to James my dear. I imagine the whore whose thighs he was between cannot say as much.”

Lorna recoiled as though he had slapped her broadside and his smile twisted. “Oh did you think he was above the things that every other man enjoys? That you were enough for a man with such dark appetites? Where do you think he goes all those hours he is away and tells you nothing?” 

His cruel laughter setting further barbs to pierce a mind struggling to compute his words. Recalling the earlier times when he had frequented the German brothel of Helga frequently. Her head shook back and forth as she backed away a few steps, desperately clinging to the memory of all the hours he had spent with her. Times she had naively thought he had been loving her. Her voice a strained whisper even as she saw the boy’s face twisted in pain, but still his head also shook in denial. His huge eyes searching her own. 

“No, it can’t be true. James would never do that. He wouldn’t betray me - not like that.”

He struck a mocking bow, “Clearly my dear, it’s always the ones you least expect to betray you, that do so the harshest.”

“Then take me to him. I want to see him.” Her chin raised defiantly knowing he would not dare go to James after this foolish, violent act.

“Oh, I did come here so that I could show you exactly what sort of man you have chosen, but I’m afraid my dear… he has flown afar.”

Lorna sat down in the chair as a rush of air escaped and her heart sunk. Robert’s eyes grew even wider and it was now his young heart made the connection between hope and that piece of him that hurt even as he had clung to the idea.

“What do you mean he’s flown?”

The hand that held the gun spread wide, “Why he’s sailed away without you my dear. The ship is gone.” He leaned forward as though he could peer right into her own mind. “Did you really think he was coming back for you? For any of you? No no. I’m afraid the devil always saves his own hide Lorna. And your Devil Delaney has far too many sins catching up to him to remain – even for you.”

Her heart had stopped beating. She was sure that it was just an empty shell that held a place inside her body, but no longer pumped life through her veins. A hollow vessel where her hopes and dreams now lay buried beneath layers of confusion and doubt. Her brow furrowed and her hands twisted together as her mind tried to unravel these… these…. Lies! Suddenly she stood up and paced the room. It was clearly lies. James would not abandon her, or Robert. No, it was not possible. After the night they had spent. The words they exchanged. She had held his heart in her hands – knew its own beats as sure as she knew her own. His soul had whispered to hers and there was not even the smallest ounce of it capable of such an act. James hated betrayal above all. He simply wouldn’t do it. He was honest to a fault and she knew beyond a doubt if he had intended to cast her off, he would have just told her so in that flat, stoic manner she had heard him use with others. She knew his past and the one thing he was not; was a coward. Her eyes leveled on William and she saw the hesitation behind the cold steel gaze he cast. He knew she would never believe such things. Now he would try another tactic.

“You know I will not believe a word spoken ill about him. Nor will I listen any longer to your lies. Your betrayal, indeed the very sight of you now, makes me want to retch.”

His smirk held no humour and any softness that he may have held towards her diminished in his gaze. “I don’t need you to believe it for it to be true my dear. The simple fact is, I am the one who will get you safely away from the soldiers that are coming… and you can thank me later when your lover never comes to claim you.”

Lorna crossed the space between them and stood defiant before him. “He will come for me William. And the fear in your eyes tells me you know it to be true.”

He pulled the boy closer and tightened his grip on the arm and Robert began howling in pain. Lorna moved faster than he anticipated and grabbed his arm to break the hold, but he was too strong. The crack of his palm against her cheek sent her reeling to the far side of the room. Once her vision cleared, she looked in horror at the man she once called friend; shattered at how easily he had deceived them all. He stood tall and menacing now and she knew there would be no escape from here, and that Robert’s safety was now paramount. William pointed to a pad of paper and quill upon the table.

“I guess you will just have to be convincing then, won’t you my dear? You’ve performed enough tearful farewells, let’s see how well you write your own.”

Lorna shook her head. “I won’t do it. I won’t hurt him.” Tears began to burn a path down her cheek where another reddened welt at William’s hand now appeared. “It doesn’t matter - if you say he’s gone anyway.”

Once more her fingers found his gift strapped beneath her skirts. _Had he suspected William would make such a play?_

His head shook as if he could no longer tolerate such stupidity. “It’s not only to convince James my dear. Or did you think that you were exempt from the vengeful wrath of both Crown and Company? No, no.” His head shook and a look of sorrow entered his eyes. “You still refuse to see the truth don’t you? He has left Lorna!! And he left you all here like sitting prey for when they come – and they are coming. I will get you safely away. Your goodbye letter to him will be enough to save your neck from a future hanging. Don’t you see my dear?”

Her shoulder’s sagged in defeat as the truth of at least these words hit her fully. If the Crown or Company thought she had left James and choose Lord William Johnston instead – she would be forever safe under his protection. James could not offer the same and her heart shattered that the thought even entered her mind. A betrayal of her own.

Seeing the conflicting thoughts and doubt cross her face, William dug his own blade deeper.

“He didn’t even give you the protection of his name. Men marry the woman they love my dear… and fuck the whores they have a use for. Until they no longer have a use for them.”

His words cut like a knife through the last pieces of her heart she tried in vain to hold together. Another truth? The thought of him with another tore at her very soul, even as her mind argued against his unfaithfulness. She thought of the garden he had promised her in Nootka. How they would conduct trade and eliminate that cruel and inhuman reliance on breaking another’s back for profit. Make a home there. The tears streamed down her face as every moment, every word and every touch they shared filtered through her mind. 

_Don’t give up on me._

She met the gaze of the man she could only now see as a pirate true, her chin raised even as tears silently slipped free.

“I don’t believe your lies William. I can’t put my finger on it, but you were always only a fair rate actor at best. Clearly the life by the sword is your true calling and nature.” Her arms folded across her chest. “I’ll not write it. I’ll not hurt him. I’ll not deny him. Ever.”

A low whistle left his lips and seconds later two large men charged through the back door. William shoved Robert towards them with a backhand and the boy fell screaming into their strong hands.

“Bind him and put him to sleep so he’ll stop that racket for God sakes.” 

One of the brutes bound the boys’ hands and feet, while the other held a rag over his mouth. Through blurred vision she watched his eyes slowly closed and his head sag upon his chest. One of the man tossed him over a shoulder and proceeded towards the back door. Lorna rushed forward but William caught her in a painful vise upon her arms and hissed against her ear.

“It’s just chloroform. Your chemist is most helpful.” Her mouth sagged at the idea the doctor had helped in this terrible charade. “Stop fighting me or I tell them to take the boy for their own use. And believe me my dear, you won’t like how they use little boys.”

Sobs shook her entire body and she sank in his grip.

“If you won’t do it to save yourself, at least save the boy.” He shoved her into the chair and pushed the paper towards her shaking hands. “Now fucking write it – my patience with you is done. I’d hate to resort to other methods to encourage your compliance.” 

His hands stroked through her hair and down the curve of her back, resting on her lower hip. He bent close and brushed his mouth across her neck, and a coldness settled over her entire body. If it were not for Robert, the thought crossed her mind that she could drive the quill straight through one of his beautiful eyes. Eyes that lied. Instead, she put the quill to paper and began to write. Every word. Every lie she committed to parchment another slice that lay open another wound in her heart. Would James believe her capable of such a thing? An actress. A whore. The widow who stood to gain so much? Or would hope reside within his own heart as it still did her own? She would keep her promise and she prayed as each lie was scratched in her delicate hand, that James would hold out too. 

Her mind searched for a way in which she could include a hidden word. A code only he would understand. But with William carefully watching her progress, it was impossible to think clearly under his scrutiny. As she signed her name to the bottom, confident in his dominance over her, he finally stepped away and moved to whistle his hired thugs back again. Her breath held as the idea struck and she waited with heart hammering in her chest – glad to feel the beat strong and true again – to ensure he remained by the door. Time was of the essence and she quickly set pen to paper as one of the huge men returned and the two exchanged a few words.

It was probably the crudest rendition of the mark ever put to paper, but she knew this was something James would understand. Her eyes rested on the small bird image that was the sole symbol of truth upon the page. The sankofa would reveal her true message loud and clear.

_Go back and fetch it._

Her own promise to never give up and her heart cry to James: _come get me._

She stood and walked meekly over to where William stood waiting. She would play the part like her life, and the boys, depended on it. For indeed this was another truth.

William smiled down upon her and she wondered how she ever thought him handsome, now that the blackness of his heart was revealed. She was sure he had convinced himself he was acting in her best interest – saving her life, but his own selfishness was the true underlying motivation. How sad that he clearly had never known love, or he would know how she’d rather die in this house beside James – then flee to save her own skin. How not knowing his own fate would shred her heart and shatter her mind until she was a mere ghost of herself. Willing a brave smile upon her face she simply nodded her acceptance of this fate. His hand raised and she saw the cloth within it. Smelled the drug before it touched her face.

“Time to say good night my dear.”

Then all she knew was darkness.

~

Cholmondeley and Godfrey had taken three turns through the entire house, both their repeated calls receiving no answer, when they finally spotted the handwritten note on the kitchen table. It now fluttered limply in Godfrey’s hand as they both stared at one another in complete confusion. Disbelief though her words seemed most resolute.

Cholmondeley remained steadfast in his loyalty to her. “She wouldn’t Godfrey. She would never leave James… even for him.”

Godfrey’s gentle eyes swam with tears and a simmering anger at the idea of her betraying James. “She’s an actress Cholm. Maybe what we saw wasn’t real at all. You have to at least consider she was always out for herself.”

Cholmondeley shook his head. “No. The boy is gone too. Why would she take Robert? Think about it Godders. If she was starting a new life with him, why take the boy.”

Godfrey stood mute, that part of him that still held his own desire for James in a secret place wanting to believe the worst of the woman he had grown to admire; maybe even love. Maybe he still had a chance to show he was the only one of true care and loyalty to the man. Though his heart was telling him it was a pipe dream and that he had seen their love with his own eyes. The jealousy that darkened the edges preventing him from admitting the truth of the chemist words. She would never leave him. Not willingly. Though he still prevented his tongue from acknowledging that fact.

Cholmondeley threw his hands up in defeat. “It’s so she would comply. The only other person Lorna would protect at the risk of her own life, is Robert.”

Godfrey placed the note back on the table with a shrug of his shoulders. As he paced about the room trying to think of their next steps, the chemist nose suddenly lifted and he took several deep inhales. Turning back to find Godfrey’s finger upon the crude bird like drawing beside her scrawled name.

“What do you suppose this is ….”

“Chloroform!” The chemist burst out with a snap of his fingers and Godfrey turned a confused to face him.

“It looks like a bird Cholm.”

He shook his head and crossed the room to grab him by the shoulders with a shake.

“Not that. It’s a drug to induce sleep. William asked me about it the other night after she was attacked.” He stepped away from Godders and ran towards the door, yelling over his shoulder. “She was taken Godders. Wait here - I’m going to the ship to get James.”

~

Godfrey sat at the table reading her note for the dozen time. Sitting alone and now able to smell the lingering aroma of the chemical about the space, he felt a moment of shame that he had ever believed a single word. Indeed it was impossible to reconcile the words against the numerous images he could recall of the two over the past months. It was impossible to have been in their presence for so long and miss their deep connection, or the strength of their bond. Indeed James was now at the ship to keep danger away from her – never suspecting it would arise within the very house they sought shelter. His head dropped upon the table. It was no wonder a man who had made a living of recording lies for an evil company was so blind to the truth. He had held secrets for so long, the least of which was his own shameful one. Reflecting back on the weeks that has passed, he knew them to be the freest he had ever experienced. The decision as to which face and form he would take upon the ship his own to make; every day. The gift of being himself that James had given, how could he ask for more? Though he had never hurt another with his own hand, he had not given so much to a single soul his entire life. 

The sound of boots upon the front porch and the opening of the door barely registered as he thought long and hard over the choices of his life. An act that had been hard to do on a crowded ship while an uncertain future had loomed ahead. His intelligent mind had already registered that the tread marching through the house was too many to be Cholm and James. The dice he had rolled for so many years had finally landed against his favour. Several long shadows fell around him in the waning light and Godfrey finally raised his head to meet the grim faces of several of the King’s men – far from home, but no less determined to carry out his Majesty’s will. They were dressed plainly, but he knew the weapons they carried. The resolve of their faces.

“Your life is forfeit Sir, but you can clear you conscience by telling us where the traitor and murderer James Keziah Delaney is. And any others of his co-conspirators.”

Godfrey remained sat at the table; quiet and still.

“We know there were others. A woman too.”

Godfrey noted that their weapons were already aimed.

_I don’t keep anyone around me who doesn’t deserve what they get._

He lifted the letter and passed it to the nearest soldier. One last act of attempted redemption in that this one thing he might preserve for James. The soldiers’ eyes quickly scanned the paper and with a snort of laughter, passed it among his comrades. The last man tossing it upon the table with a dismissive grunt that indicated he was not surprised by such an outcome. Godfrey gathered the letter in a hand as he sat with head bowed. 

“So the actress proves the whore and claims the better man. I dare say she’s the smartest of all ya.” Laughter filled the place. “A betrayal fitting a traitor, right men? Hell indeed hath no greater fury.”

Their laughter at James’ expense, the irony of his being bested by a mere woman – a fickle actress no less – filled his ears. Not enough to drown out his own sins piled high over the years. Years of covering for that great leviathan that spewed its evil across the earth. Truths he willingly ignored for the simple reason of a raised hand. Cover ups, betrayals, tortured boys twisted and plaited into agents of evil – he knew even James among them. What kind of love allowed that? He had hid among them so well. His own face a mask that hid inner demons and desires whose indulgence was the price paid for his continued silence. His silence allowing the untold sacrifice of others; while he enjoyed his own secret little word. What kind of freedom was that when others remained in chains?

“You need not answer sir. The woman is of no concern now and we will find him. Indeed, his ship is being watched and reports tell us he is there. This trip was just to find those of you equal of guilt.” 

_Yes, that includes you._

He barely had time to feel a tiny measure of sorrow for himself, before the sound of gunshots echoed in the cramped space.

~

His make-up had smudged off one side of his face where he lay slumped upon the table. Blood smearing the dress he had carefully chosen for the start of another journey. Dried, sticky and pungent matter scattered throughout the powered strands of his otherwise flawless wig. Seeing the multiple gunshot wounds Cholmondeley had not even bothered checking for a pulse. He simply closed Godfrey eyes that somehow still managed to retain their gentle gaze. Atticus paced throughout the kitchen uttering curses under a breath that still came in gasps from their quick flight through back alleys and now darkening streets of the city. Cholmondeley wiped his eyes as a quiet grief began to creep upon him. James stood in the corner, his eyes upon the letter that he had pulled from Godfrey’s death grip.

Noting the deathly silence of the room, the two man watched as James silently read the note. Agony clearly visible in the lines of his face. The confused knitting of his brows as he fingers the Sankofa at the bottom; disbelief and doubt clouding his vision. Grief and rage swirling within him and threaten to overcome the truth he knows in his heart. Darkness filling every cell of his body and mind as visions of his parents assault him, even as he re-reads her words again and again. The wound so fresh that its rage that broils over as he throws the note upon the table and picking up a glass, smashed it against the far wall. His eyes flickered over Godfrey’s lifeless form. His friend. A pained groan escaped as he filled with an unfamiliar mix of grief, regret and bitter justice. That familiar chill creeps up Atticus spine, but Cholmondeley dares to speak to the one thing that might register truth in his twisted mind. 

“Robert is gone too.”

James turned eyes blazing with both pain and rage, and they watch helpless as his legs crumple and he crouches low to the ground, head in his hands. There might even have been muted sounds of crying among all the mumbles and grunts that fall from his lips. Cholmondely moves forward and lowers to James level.

“Do you smell that James? Chloroform. The bastard asked me about it. I’m sorry James, I never thought for a moment…”

Suddenly James stood up and with a roar of anguish pushed the man who sought to shine reason into his tortured mind away. Both men back away as the potential for violence drips from his pores and saturates the room over the smell of drying blood. With a final glance at Godfrey’s slumped body, he grabbed a bottle of brandy from the table and disappeared out the back door. Immediately lost into the night.

Atticus and Cholmondeley exchange worried glances; easily reading one another’s mind.

It seemed the devil had finally received his due.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave anyone still reading here, but I will be on a brief hiatus. Just breathe! There's always a plan.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!! Thanks for your patience. This chapter is on the shorter side and totally SFW - no warnings; but war approaches and the journey West begins.  
> But perhaps William should heed a warning: never betray a Delaney -- and you crossed three and everyone gets what they deserve.

Quietly he lay upon the hard wooden planks; each bump sending shivers of pain throughout his still bound limbs. His stomach lurched at the close confines, but the small amount of light that filtered in at various angles eased the ensuing panic that pumped adrenaline through his veins. Thankfully they had removed the gag while he lay unconscious and he breathed deep in the dimly lit space. Immediately regretting it as dust clogged his throat. The stench of horse shit was strong and triggered his gag reflex further. Trying to muffle the sounds of his coughs into a shoulder, Robert twisted painfully against the ropes that dug into his young flesh. Voices and the familiar _clop clop_ of hooves carried through the canvas that surrounded him, along with the aromas that assaulted his senses and he grimaced, then smiled briefly. These small indications telling him much: he was in a covered wagon, traveling along a dusty trail, with single riders alongside. This is what comes from years of holding your silence, while opening your other senses; ever quiet and always watchful. Robert was far more aware of what transpired around him than most adults suspected of a young lad. Living in a box was nothing new to him, even if he was well aware it was not a life to be lived.

That keen gaze now searched the cramped interior, making note of stacked supplies of food, water and blankets until he could discern her pale features and closed lids. Ears straining against the external sounds, he focused on her breathing which he was relieved to discover came soft and steady. The awkward bend of her shoulders and twisted body told him she was also bound. A dark bruise adorned her cheek and his eyes narrowed dangerously as his thoughts turned towards the man responsible for the mark – and their current predicament. His young heart squeezed tight at the harsh life lesson, though in truth, it was not his first. Still, the sting burrowed deep for he had Hoped; and now those dreams were slipping away. A brief warmth spread along his battered and bruised body as he considered gratefully that at least he was not separated from the lady. His mom – though he had never dared to voice the endearment. That didn’t erase the simple truth he felt in his heart that she was the only thing resembling a mother he had ever known. His tender heart broke anew with the realization that when she awoke, the pain of being torn from her love would burst anew. A devil to some. But not to her. And not to him. For now, she looked as though she was peacefully sleeping and Robert was thankful for this small grace.

As he lay there listening to the sound of her breathing and the masculine voices beyond – his teeth clenching each time William spoke – he held not the tiniest shred of doubt that James Delaney would have forsaken his Lorna. He was pretty sure that he would never abandon him either. The man would not have brought them all this way just to deceive, when he could have easily left them on the London docks and sailed away. He also knew the man spoke truth because he had once stood before a terrified boy and told him he was one of this broken band of brotherhood now; and that it meant he might very well hang. He spoke the truth, for truth is what James Delaney valued so keenly he had an uncanny knack for unearthing even the deepest hidden ones. He exposed lies – not dealt in them. When he didn’t know the truth, he simply didn’t provide an answer. Only offering a series of grunts and mumbles the listener was forced to decipher. Robert had easily understood this code of silence and monosyllabic responses, having been of the strong, silent persuasion himself for so long. He suspected it was why James had never discussed their own situation: brother, or son? He simply didn’t know and thus the mystery remained unsolved. His love was another matter entirely. Though not prone to elaborate or public declarations, even a young boy could see it was a thing spoken and lived daily. No – James Delaney would not live a lie. It only pained his heart further that he had so misjudged the other man. A scowl etched his features as his eyes darkened into a glare many would say was familiar. It softened briefly as it once again rested on her lovely face, and then resolve sparked and turned it into steel.

He would protect what James could not in his absence.

At all costs. Including himself.

If one could hold that determined gaze at this moment; no lie would be detected.

~

The rest of the patrons of the bayou bar kept their distance from the dirty and disheveled man broodingly chugging his brandy in a darkened, dank corner. Which was saying something since the majority of it’s clientele were of similar persuasion. Most likely even more dangerous than the air of recklessness that seeped from his alcohol steeped pores. There was something different about this man; the least of which was the fact that he was a stranger. An outsider. The _laissez-faire_ vibe of the city might tolerate the strange words that tumbled from his twisted lips, the even stranger markings briefly glimpsed upon his body, or his aloft manner; but here in the bayou such things only roused suspicion. Were signs of trouble around the bend, and they were certain this man was as steeped in trouble as he was in his cups. It clouded the darkened eyes, cloaked his hunched form and permeated the air around him like the smoke that hung low beneath the wooden rafters. 

Old Viv in her usual bar stool nursing her hooch claimed, none too softly, that his aura wrapped around him in alternating bands of blinding light that blocked her probing, and then swirled into shrouded and uuted, myriads of colour. As though his spirit could not decide on a singular shade and bounced around trying each one on for size. Her tapered fingers caressed the glass jar edge as she studied him without reserve. The longer his mumbles and rambles continued, the more she noted the emerging dominant ring of deep purple that encircled his frame. Nodding slightly, _yes he was mysterious indeed._ She might have approached to offer a reading, except even she required no psychic ability to ascertain his Keep Away silent, but not subtle countenance. His bent head betrayed more than a hint of grief and she wondered if it was life, or love that had sent this wounded soul into a deep tailspin. When James eyes briefly raised and narrowed towards her own, the pain she glimpsed within confirmed such a deeply troubled aura could only mean this man was unlucky in both.

James refused to budge under the old woman’s unrelenting scrutiny; sensing a purity behind her curiosity. The fact she had not approached him suggesting it was not coin she was seeking to gain. Two intuitive minds sized one another up and James noted the depth of concern in her gaze. Since it held no harm, he allowed a small peek – perhaps even to test the depth of her talents. He softened his gaze and the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly as his head gave a subtle nod of acknowledgement. Her breath caught, but she quickly recovered and pulled her gaze from his own. She had seen enough in those brief moments, as the purple ring had widened and deepened to envelope his entire being and extend a few feet beyond. Her eyes squinting against it’s sudden brilliant flash. Life had dealt him several hard blows and there was a spot in his soul darker than a chilled swampy night; but one truth shone bright in the midst. As was often the case with purple aura souls, she felt a measure of relief knowing that his true mate waited somewhere for his return. Though she also sensed this was a not a man who was willing to wait long, but was hell bent on getting back to his love. Turning back to offer her own smile, she caught the subtle wink before he rose, tossing a handful of coins upon the scarred table. His steps surprisingly steady for a man who had been drinking away the better part of the evening. Her back remained turned and only the heavy tread of his boots indicated his departure through the lopsided hanging door of the tavern. She didn’t need to see the night swallow him into its shadows to know the look on his face issued a warning to anyone who stood in his way. 

~

Beads of sweat shone on his bald head, running in rivulets along the inked compass lines and into eyes that darted from Godfrey’s corpse, to the now darkening windows, and finally resting on a calmly seated Cholmondeley at the table holding her note in his scarred hands. From time to time his own gaze lifted from her words to stare with unashamed grief at the dead man across the table. Both men jumped nervously at any sound beyond the back door that still hung slightly ajar from James’ hasty departure earlier. Neither was sure if they feared greater an unknown shadow darkening it’s entry, or the return of James himself. Anxiety over his lengthy absence mounted as the night settled around them. Atticus thoughts often stretching beyond towards his friend, who would now be sailing James ship down the mighty river towards the open sea. He knew the man more than capable for the long, arduous task – but he also knew at least one other ship left the port soon after and followed the same course. _Would any of them survive this foolish path they tread upon?_ His voice cut the silence, startling Cholmondeley in his chair.

“We can’t wait for his arse any longer. Likely drunk it off by now anyways.”

From his seat, the chemist barely raised his head or gaze, and only nodded.

“It’s a hard blow been dealt him. I can’t fault the man if it were true.”

Atticus slapped the man upon the back, his chortle loud and out of place in the morbid setting. “Well ya never needed much of a reason to get in yer own cups either, did ya mate?”

His grin dissolved into the hint of a sneer, though he intended no true malice. Only to relieve the tension that lingered about the room, though his awkward attempt was brushed aside with apathy. The man in question offering neither explanation nor apology. A loud sigh escaped and the old sailor headed towards the door.

“Alright then, let’s get on with it. Not safe here now anyways.”

“Atticus – we can’t just leave him here like this.” Cholmondeley’s head nodded towards Godfrey’s slumped from and he swallowed thickly.

“And we can’t rightly take him with us either, now can we?” Ignoring the other’s hesitation and lack of reply, he continued. “No. There’s nothing to be done about it now. Not even time for proper burial, and no - I don’t feel right about it t’all, but it is what it is and there’s no help for it.”

The chemist gave a final shrug of his shoulders and slowly eased from the table, grabbing Lorna’s note and stuffing it into the pocket of his shirt still bearing blood stains from his friends’ lifeless body. So much loss today. He wasn’t a sentimental man by any means, but he moved forward with a heaviness of heart towards Atticus who stood waiting at the edge of night creeping along the tiled floor. A finger picked lazily in his yellowed teeth as he cast a last glance in farewell. The two men stepped out into the cool night, hastening their steps from the house that now tainted the brief moments of cheer that had occurred within. Running behind the garden hedge, they tripped over the trussed up body of their missing guide, exchanging worried glances with the wide eyed gaze of the Cajun man. Atticus helped him to his feet, while the doctor noted the long gash on the side of his head. The sailor glimpsed the wound and his whispered quip came as an eerie too late truth.

“I guess he were a pirate after all.”

They made their way through the night now supporting the man’s body between them. Still feeling both tension and now a sense of foreboding regarding an uncertain future, the wisecracking sailor couldn’t resist another remark.

“Honestly Cholm, I thought it would be you I’d be carrying through the darkened streets with your toes dragging lines in the dirt behind.”

He received a stony glare in reply at first, but felt some measure of relief when the doctor replied back with equal wit.

“The night has just begun mate, and if it gets any worse, you may yet feel my weight upon your back.”

Atticus released the first genuine chuckle heard in hours, and it sounded both odd and strangely comforting as he was tempted to believe that events could not possibly get worse. However, with James still missing hours later while they all huddled in the dark of the carriage house, the longer he remained lost – the worse it was likely to get.

It was the evening of December 13, 1814 and war was breaking along the waters and shores of the port city. And James was somewhere out in the middle of it.

~

The ever present bumping and knocking about that had likely lain bruises over every inch of her skin as the miles passed finally ceased. Miles that took her ever further from James and she blinked back blinding tears while happier moments played behind tightly squeezed eyelids. Her entire body ached from both pain and grief and she was sure the warm, sticky feeling on her wrists was blood. Mercifully they were still for the moment and she shifted as quietly as possible to ease the strain of the binds. The boy murmured softly beside her and concerned, blurry eyes now turned to study his features. A face she had been watching carefully for what seemed like hours already, so that she knew every line and freckle. The knot in her stomach tightened as another worry was heaped upon her heart. A heart that still struggled to understand the folly of one man, and hold faith in another. _James._ Her lips murmured softly while behind closed lids the world tinted deep purple. The boy settled once more and she sighed in relief and her eyes returned to scan the enclosed interior of what she knew to be a covered wagon. It was clear provisions were well in hand, but her main concern would always be the boy: and what she must do to keep him safe.

A bitter bile taste rose in her mouth knowing William was well aware of that fact too and had used it to ensure her submission. Pirate! Though it still pained her to accept that he very well may have saved her life; the future life he offered held no appeal. Her choice had been made on a river bank weeks ago and there was no other path she cared to tread. All paths led to James — except this one she was now forced to endure. She snorted in disgust in the dark interior and immediately regretted the action when the low voices outside suddenly stilled. She turned her gaze back to the boy to find Robert’s wide eyes upon her – noticing they held no trace of fear. A cold sheen of steel had clouded the youthful brightness and when he offered a twisted smile, she knew both pride and apprehension. He had proved incredibly resilient during the traumatic events and she could only wonder what foolishness this Delaney male might also attempt in order to prove his worth. Robert would seek to protect her – it was a certainty – and thus she had to find a way to keep an atmosphere of calm acceptance. Until she could find a way to get them free. She smiled back to reassure the lad, but had no time to voice the promises of her heart as the canvas was suddenly swept back and bright sunlight stung their vision. She blinked repeatedly before meeting William’s cold eyes.

“Aww, my dear Lorna, I see you have woken from your dream.”

She turned her face away and focused her mind on a memory of her and James lying in other cramped quarters, their fingers entwined and voices low while the ship swayed gently. The wagon dipped briefly as he stepped lightly inside and bent a knee.

“This doesn’t have to be unpleasant my dear. Is there anything I can get you?”

She turned eyes snapping with hatred and fire and if her mouth was not so dry from the dusty trial, would have spat at his feet.

“There is nothing I could possibly want from you. _Bonnie Wylie._ ”

The use of his pirate name found its mark and cut deep, and the gentleman’s face showed a brief flash of hurt at the intended insult. Then once again the mask fell and with his mouth in a hard line, he raised the cloth against a small bottle and leaned towards her; body angled to avoid the sudden kicking and thrashing of the boys’ feet to his side. 

“I think it’s best that you remain safely in your dreams for the moment my dear.”

She twisted her head against the pressure of the cloth against her tender mouth. Pulling away from the cool sting and sweet odor of the drug. Her eyes blinking wildly until within minutes they slowed and finally dropped closed. Robert’s young voice breaking with the insults he heaped upon the man, while still trying to use his own body in an offensive attack. _Dreams._ The world was slowly slipping away and she clung to the images of James that assaulted her mind, instead of the reality of the encroaching darkness. But even as its thick veil dropped and she slipped into the welcoming abyss, the purple ring remained strong and bright.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of New Orleans erupts... a perfect way to hide some dead soldiers as the devil rises to claim his revenge for a fallen friend.  
> The journey West continues for Lorna and Robert as they patiently wait for their moment to escape their captor.

**December 14th, 1814**

Crouched in the dark with the beads of sweat upon his half naked body cooling in the evening breeze, before rolling down his tanned length to fall upon the parched earth. The bellyful of brandy rolled and gurgled within his otherwise empty stomach and though long ago consumed, its warmth still spread along his bare limbs. Lean fingers stroked the cold steel at his sides with a lover’s tender caress. Glancing upward he noted the moon had climbed higher and cast an eerie glow upon the ancient oak trees; twisting their forms into grotesque sentinels. He felt at one with them. They too stood alone in the dark guarding their secrets deep inside. Locked up in tightly wound rings only revealed when you cut them open. _And oh he had been cut wide. Deeply._ His fingers traced the rough bark and imagined the summer wind lightly skimming over his flesh became delicate fingers tracing lightly upon his own roughly etched frame. The vision of a vivid purple mark on a bed of ghostly pale swam before his eyes and the anger burned alongside the brandy. His head slanted to catch the distant sounds of canon and gunfire rolling in with the bayou fog. War had come to the city and the devil hid within its advancing march, body relaxed and gaze steady. Eyes framed in the cool detachment of the face of a hunter. This waiting for prey a thing he remembers well. 

Voices carried over the manicured lawn and trimmed hedges and James muscles flexed in anticipation. The bright scarlet of their tunics marking them easily in the pale moonlight. It gleamed off the edge of the knives and the broad naked muscled expanse camouflaged in alternating bands blending with the surrounding blackness. Silent and swift he moved and death followed on his heels, curling about them in brief flashes of light and the spiraling smoke of their tobacco pipes. They knew not whether it was man, or beast, or some unknown horror that set upon them without mercy. Their imaginations bloated on local tales of voodoo curses and poisons that rendered the living as though walking dead. Foreign words whispered from frothy lips pulled back to reveal gleaming teeth the only sound that suggested what stalked them was indeed human. Fear congealed in their guts in these final moments where no time for a reckoning was granted. Nor for primal screams to split the night air, as the knife sunk deep into necks and the ground tainted crimson with life force spent. The first strike the deadliest and the ones that followed of ritualistic tones that spit their organs upon the red soaked earth. As the last fell upon the cold ground, vacant eyes lifted to the night sky, his dying thought one of shame that he had not even fought valiantly. He heard the muttered curse while the deviled beast with the moon on its back, slunk away into the encroaching darkness while the canon fire droned on in the background.

_Yes even you, only half a man._

~

The Good Hope left the gaping gash of the mighty river behind and stretched her sails full towards the open sea. The river guide hastily departing, his smaller boat bouncing along the churning waves as tales of war arriving had been relayed along the river banks. French Bill kept the vessel far from the war boats that lingered around the mouth of the river, waiting for their turn to be called to the fray. Merchant ships were granted passage at the moment, but within a few short hours the river would be locked down tight as the British sought to maintain a stranglehold on all American trade from the South. The timing of their departure had been perfect and once again he marveled at the almost unearthly intuition of the man who had lead them here. Pearle stood small and slight beside him. Her body tucked up against him from the brittle breeze that whipped the hem of her skirts about both their legs. A hint of unease held in her gaze and Bill smiled gently down upon her upturned face; a wink to show both affection and calm her nerves. She returned the smile with hesitation at first, but once pulled in for a closer squeeze, it widened and brightened under his apparent ease. She patted his stomach a few times before wandering off to seek a respite from the chill in their newly acquired Captain’s Cabin. 

_Captain. I’m in love with a sea captain._ Her smile stretched wider as she closed the door softly behind her and looked around the cabin before saying a mental prayer that its former occupants would also be finding an easy path forward. She hoped to see her friend again one day. 

On the deck, French Bill kept wary eyes on all the ship traffic; both merchant and military. He knows at least one that follows in his wake will be of ill purpose. Yet another one holding her secret cargo safe from both Company and Crown. A weary yawn broke upon his face and he rubbed his tired eyes with the back of a dirty hand; the gesture not unnoticed by his new First Mate. A frown etched the large man’s face as Cole, happy to be about service that allowed him top deck more often, crossed the deck from where he was instructing the crew and stood with peering gaze upon his Captain. No words were exchanged; only a slight nod from Bill that was carefully studied and then returned. They both gazed out over the waters, each man’s worry about the coming journey kept in quiet corners. With a final nod, Cole patted him upon the solider and returned to his duties on the deck. 

Bill leaned into the wind and kept his gaze on the sea beyond, hoping they would be ready for what followed when it set upon them. 

~

Atticus and Cholmondeley attempted a few hours of sleep, but with the city erupting into chaos beyond the barred doors, they only managed a few hours of restless tossing and turning. Both of them jumping to alertness at any sound heard outside. General Andrew Jackson had declared martial law and every able bodied man, whether he be white, black, or Native blood was called to prepare for battle. Even the notorious and dashing local pirate Jean Lafitte failed to escape service, while their guide slept easily having been so lucky due to the gash upon his brow to escape such a fate. From the pieced together bits of information they had gathered during their trek though the city streets, it seemed the fighting centered at Lake Borgne where a much smaller American flotilla had been easily defeated by the larger British naval forces. A garrison was established approximately thirty miles East of New Orleans. And the waiting begun. 

It was during one of the quieter lulls when they had managed to fall asleep that a dirty, drunk and half naked James finally arrived at the carriage house. Swaying unsteadily over their sleeping forms while the sweat and blood fell in mixed drops upon the hay covered ground. The horses whinnied nervously in their pens and stamped their feet. Dark beaded eyes fixed upon them and they settled with a toss of their heads. He placed his knives stained bright with fresh blood upon a nearby table and grumbled loudly over their prone forms.

“Where is the brandy?”

Atticus immediately scrambled to his feet, attempting to place a hand over his mouth.

“Jesus James, ya will have us all front o’ the line fighting their war, for fucks sake pipe down.”

James pulled his head away, swaying backwards. “Atticus, where is my brandy?”

Atticus reached a hand to bring him upright again, his palm slipping upon the grime covered bare chest so that James stumbled backwards and landed upon the floor with a loud _oompfh._ The sailor wiped his hands upon his own shirt, noting the dried rust tone; though he was not of mind to inquire whose blood it was. Cholmondeley had sat up at the commotion and now his face paled considerably as he too noted the blood smeared over James form. He met the red and bleary eyes that had difficulty focusing, but still held their empty black stare and he was reminded of what horror James Delaney is capable of unleashing. Atticus moved towards the wagon already packed with their belongings for the journey. 

“Ya just sit down a spell James. Might be best to clear ya head now.”

James head rolled loosely about his neck as his eyes searched out the man across the room. “Atticus. The brandy. Why would I want a clear head at a time such as this… hhhmmm?”

With a deep frown he was handed a bottle and immediately uncorked the top with his teeth and swigged a deep drought. Cholmondeley licked his own lips, mouth suddenly quite dry, and James eyes fell upon him with a knowing glare. He leaned forward and held the bottle forth, but Atticus interceded.

“The hell if I am traveling across the damn dessert and plains with two drunk fools.” He cast a glare at the chemist. “A little help ‘ere eh?”

James took another long haul and slurred a reply. “Oh the good doctor has been most helpful already, haven’t you Cholms?” James head shook slowly back and forth while his finger wagged haphazardly in the air. “Did you make a pretty penny with your medicine, or provide the dashing rogue with another form of payment.”

Atticus cursed and turned away, but the chemist refused to take James’ bait and sat calmly upon the floor.

“He said it was for you.” A shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t question it further.”

James snorted and slanted his head, eyes narrowed and tone dangerously low. “Didn’t question its use? And was that good?”

Cholms narrowed his own gaze. “You tell me James… where is your own wisdom in the use you have of things – and people? Did it serve your lady in the end?”

A growl tore from James throat as he made to leap across the space between them, hands automatically raised towards the chemist’s throat. He made no move to defend himself except for simply raising of a piece of paper before James gaze. All the motion and violence emerging in James coming to an abrupt halt as once more her words swam before his blurred vision. He swatted the note away and stepped back from the man.

“Is fighting me what you want to be doing James? Or are we not going after her while time is still on our side?”

James stood so still before them, eyes lowered to the floor and hands hung so limp at his sides it seemed all the life within came to a slow stall. His brow furrowed deeply while he remained numb and mute and Atticus and Cholms exchanged worried glances. Atticus stepped to place a hand on his shoulder and felt the trembling deep within.

“James, war is upon the city. The time to go is now, or we risk never being able to catch her… assuming we ain’t killed in the midst of all the chaos.”

His eyes still downcast and slowly blinking, though a shaky nodding of his head was noticed, before he sat down with a thud, raising a cloud of dust. With a last choking sound that was half laugh, half cry, he toppled over into the dirt. Together the men heaved his body onto a wagon and proceeded to leave the city under cover of darkness. Though his loud snores compromised the need for secrecy until Atticus cuffed him about the head and once again he fell silent. Atticus turned back to watching the moonlight swathe a path before them upon the old Indian trial.

“Poor bastard. Hard to believe it can be true of that gal. Having trouble wid it myself”

Cholms voice came quiet beside him. “I don’t think this is something our Mrs. Delaney would do Atticus.” He withdrew her letter once more. “Look at this bird thing she has added…. I think it’s a clue she left for James.”

Atticus shrugged. “Ya, might be. Can’t believe she’d leave him. Lit up like the sun itself whenever she was round him she did.” His wink was not missed in the dark. “Spent a lot of time in that cabin they did.”

Cholms nodded, for once refraining from adding an equally lewd remark. “If that bastard had threatened the boy, she’d follow.” 

Atticus nodded, “Aye that she would.”

Cholms cursed his own stupidity aloud as he glanced over James sleeping form. “Dammit, he’s right about the chloroform. I should have asked more questions.”

“What did William say ‘xactly?”

“Just asked me to get him some; said James has a use for you, and then when I brought it asked about dosages. Son of a bitch that should have been a clue.”

Atticus shrugged his shoulders and leaned back upon the wagon bed. “Yeah well, no use frettin’ on it now. None of us saw through that asshole. We’ll get some distance between us and that warring city…” He glanced over his shoulder to where James still lay passed out. “since he ain’t gonna be much good to anyone for a few hours yet anyway. And then we’ll make a plan.” 

“I could give him something to wake him up.” 

Weary of the long day and his own eyes barely able to blink any longer, Atticus shook his head before turning over to seek his own rest. “Just let it be for now Cholms. James ain’t in his right mind. He loves her… loves her more than I thought a man like he could. And I knows she does too. Give it time… we’ll figure it out.”

~

Once again it was only the passing of light to dark that indicated the slow passage of time. If only she could be sure how many times she had drifted aimlessly too long in either; kept in the constant state of unconsciousness as she was. Bonnie Wylie, for she would refuse to use his genteel given name ever again, proving quite liberal in his use of the sleeping drug. She only knew the continued rustle and bumps of the wagon wheels upon the earth, the soft whinnies of the horses mingling with the low murmur of male voices, and the occasional howling of coyotes when her eyes opened to darkness. Few were the moments in between to take care of personal matters, swallow some food, and ensure the boy was doing alright. At times she was vaguely aware of his soft crying and she would wiggle as close as she could towards him to offer comfort. Other times she would lie still and give him the privacy of the moment. Mostly it seemed they were never awake at the same time for very long and she worried about the moments in between. Still, she bade her time until obtaining the full use of free limbs before attempting any kind of escape. 

It was with great relief the day came she opened her eyes and found herself able to stretch out on the hard wood floor, limbs unbound. The fogginess that had plagued her mind seemed to be easing its hold. Bringing her hands to her wrists to ease the ache the bindings had caused and discovered they were wrapped in clean linens. Her brow furrowed and eyes quickly scanned Robert’s to find the same care had been taken. Sitting up, she leaned forward and quietly called his name, but he did not stir. She waited a few moments more and then noticing the wagon had stopped, peeked her head out the back of the wagon to find Bonnie Wylie sitting upon his horse as though he expected her at any moment. 

“Do you require assistance?”

Scowling deeply, she shook her head, though her legs in truth felt weak as a new foal. By damned if she would accept any assistance from that bastard! Carefully she scrambled down, faltering momentarily when her feet touched the dry earth. He made to move, but checked himself when her glare settled upon him. He chuckled softly and pointed towards some scraggly brush to his left.

“For your needs my lady.” 

A half bow from where he sat astride his steed. Lorna detected no mocking or malice in his tone and wondered that he allowed her this new freedom. As she crouched within the brush a thought suddenly occurred to her: _we’ve come far enough long. I can’t go back now._ The weariness and grief threatened to crumble her right there in the scraggly weeds and she cared not if the thorns would tear her flesh apart. This absence from him was tearing her apart – how fitting if her body were to show physical signs of her inner torment. Those wounds would eventually heal; she doubted the inner pain ever would. The not knowing where he was, or how he was faring; her imagination conjuring a dozen different scenarios – and none of them bringing a measure of calm or relief. Her eyes found the pirate climbing down from his horse to assist Robert from the wagon and the protective instinct arose fiercely; carrying her feet quickly from the brush.

“Don’t you touch him. Ever.” 

Her hand swatted the man’s arm away from the boy and she drew Robert behind her; using herself as a shield between them. Bracing her feet and one hand touching the knife still hidden beneath her skirts for reassurance. William stood with a surprised look upon his face; caught off guard by both her sudden appearance and the steel in her gaze.

“If you ever lay a single finger on him again, I will….”

His raised hands cut short the threat. “I only meant to offer him assistance from the wagon my lady.” He snorted as he turned his back on both of them. “Not all are committed to stubborn refusals of help.”

She marched in pace behind him. “Help?! Help you say.” He turned slightly to meet her fury. “And how pray tell have you helped us, Bonnie Wylie?” The name hissed between clenched teeth.

She noted the softening in his gaze and it set her back on her heels. “You would likely be dead Mrs. Delaney. And the boy.” He sighed deeply and took one slow step forwards. “It doesn’t have to be like this. I have no real wish to harm you – or the boy. If you stop fighting me…”

“I will never stop fighting you. Not until you return me to where I truly belong. You will wake to a new fight every day.” 

He had expected yelling. The high pitched feminine shrill that could bring a man to his knees. Or send him fleeing with ears covered. The quietness of her tone bespoke the weight of truth behind her words. She would never stop fighting to get back to him. He admired her determination greater even than any man he’d ever known. Save perhaps the man she was desperate to get back to. He sighed heavily and kicked the dirt with his boot.

“Then now you know why I’ve taken you far enough away, to prevent you going back. You’ll not find him, and you and the boy will die out here with only the cacti and the lizards to bear witness.”

“Take me back.” The tears streamed down her face, but her chin held high.

“No. I can’t do that now.”

“How long have we traveled?”

“Long enough.” At her weary sigh and resolute stance, he relented. “About a week, Mrs. Delaney.”

She faltered at his use of her married name. Surprised that he would use it if he meant to claim her himself. Glancing over her shoulder as she felt the boy’s presence press upon her back and their eyes met briefly before she felt his small hand entwine with her own. He would follow her. Alone she would risk it all – but she would not risk his life when she knew not the way. Or where she might even find James by this time. Her gaze lifted to the man who held them both in limbo and found concern still lingering in his eyes though his mouth was compressed in a tight line. When another man appeared suddenly at his side, the hard glint returned.

“Vittles are ready if anyone is hungry.”

William presented the man at his side. “Mrs. Delaney, this is a long time friend of mine, Mr. Douglas Burns. Or just plain Dougie if he allows it.”

The man nodded his head. “Ma’am. I’m sorry to have made your acquaintance in such a…”

Williams hand upon his chest halted the words. “If you have need of anything, do not hesitate to ask him.” 

She nodded at the man who despite being silenced, offered her an easy, gentle smile. She saw that his eyes were kind and the side glance he cast his friend before walking away with a mumbled well I’m half-starved. William held his arm, indicating to follow Dougie.

“Shall we? You should keep up your strength. It’s a long way yet.”

“And where is that Wylie?”

He smirked and turned upon his heel. “Dougie has the appetite of a horse, I suggest you get some food before he inhales every last crumb.”

Robert spat into the dust beside her. “I’ll not eat it Mrs. Lorna. What if they have poisoned it?”

Her arm circled about the boy. “Not likely if they are devouring it heartily as well Robert.” Her eyes rested upon the wagon tracks still visible upon the dusty trail they had traversed; following their muddy lines as far as her eyes could manage. She couldn’t even remember rain falling. “And he’s right – we must keep up our strength.” She smiled at the boy and squeezed him closer, while lifting her skirt slightly to reveal the hidden knife. “If we are to win our freedom. We must be smart about it Robert. Like James would - patient.” 

His smiled widened and he nodded quietly, his heart bursting with love and pride that she was still fighting. For James. For him. She clasped his hand once more and together they walked towards the small fire where William, Dougie and another man sat hunched already enjoying the meal. The aroma teased their noses and their tummies rumbled; pulling the first easy laugh since the ordeal had begun. Lorna ruffled his hair and leaned down to whisper by his ear.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

It was some time later, as they sat quietly about the fire after enjoying a hearty meal and listening to the easy conversation between William and Dougie, that she noticed the sun sinking low on the horizon. Often throughout the meal she felt his gaze upon her; a brow often quirked as though he was actually concerned for her welfare. After repeated attempts to draw her into the conversation were met with stony silence, he finally abandoned the hope of any pleasant converse. Her eyes flicked back to the sun and tears came hot and thick as images of similar rays bursting over a bronzed back and inked bands swam before her vision. Squeezing her eyes closed tight as the images of their time on the island assaulted her senses. She swore the light desert breeze felt akin to his hands brushing over her soft skin and she shivered in the chilled night air, desperate to be close to him again. Though it brought agony when she could not reach out and touch his warmth in return. Still the image of James, naked and dangerous in the shallow waters with spear clutched in hand would not diminish. _Was he searching for us right now? The hunter come to claim what was stolen?_ Her heart thudded in her chest and she could not bear to sit among that golden light a moment longer. Her eyes opened to find William’s regard upon her steadily. With a choked sob she rose to her feet and made to flee back to the seclusion of the wagon.

“Mrs. Delaney … are you well?” 

She ignored his plea. The nerve of asking her if she was well, when he knew damn sure that she could not bear this separation. _Damn him._ Her fingers touched the knife and in that moment she knew without a doubt she could sink it deep into his flesh. Flay the skin from his bones for this torment he had visited upon her. The unforgivable arrogance of his deed, no matter how well meaning he might convince himself. With her back turned she missed that he had rose to his feet to follow, but his friend stayed his approach. With a muttered curse, he turned and walked away from the fire, hands rubbing the back of his head while it shook back and forth. As she climbed inside the wagon and was pulling the canvas closed, she caught the outline of him against the dying sun, but it was not the form she was seeking.

Tears flowing fast and free now, she wrenched the canvas to shut out a single ray of light. Turning her back on the brilliant display that burst over the land. She would not gaze on another until she could see its golden tones reflect upon the face of the one she loved. Until then, light and dark is all she will know – that brief moment of possibility that exists between the two becomes a thing forgotten.

From his place near the fire, Robert’s keen eyes watched the man he now hated with every fiber in his small being. His young mind confused by his apparent concern for Ms. Lorna and the lack of threats concerning bodily harm. What interested him more was that the beloved sword was absent from his side. His eyes flickered to the left – nor did it hang from his saddle. Which meant it could only be one another place. Dark eyes narrowed as a single thought consumed his bright mind, even as her words to be patient echoed in the background. 

_You’d better bind my hands tight tonight you bastard._


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild violence - but you already knew that Delaney’s always extract their revenge
> 
> “What kind of evil will a good man be willing to do?”

The next days passed with his waking hours holding a jug of rum in one hand, and her tattered and now smudged letter in the other. His thumb often resting upon the _Sankofa_ image while unintelligible words passed his lips. When the sun began its descent towards the horizon, he would stand in the dying light gazing afar; the paper flapping in the light breeze. Then he would crawl into the wagon and not be seen until the sun once again rose and began its fiery charge across the sky. In those dark hours, his military mind enlightened that a retreat was sometimes the wisest choice of action; especially when you knew not where the enemy lay in wait. The other half of his mind seeking a route that would lead to victory. The other men watched him carefully. Their worried words kept low so as to not provoke his mood further. Repeated inquiries as to why they continued to travel west were only met with stony silence and his brooding glare. Their guide plodding the wagon along, content as long as his wage was paid and his belly filled. Atticus had taken to removing the jug when sleep would finally claim him, but leaving the note as a previous attempt to pry it from his fingers almost caused him grievous bodily harm. Thus they coexisted in a state of apprehension and anxiety knowing that time to catch the lady was quickly expiring. 

The third day dawned seeing a still dirty and half naked but relatively sober James emerge from the canvas covered wagon. Atticus and Cholm were both seated breaking the fast by a fire and watched him stumble around the wagon to piss against one wheel. It seemed an impossible amount of time passed before he was finished, and once again came around the wagon in his slow, shuffling gait, pausing to splash water from a basin upon his face and body. Atticus gave a silent thanks for the washing; a sign that the situation had reached a critical level. Finally clean of the dirt, sweat and dried blood, James stood silent, his face an unreadable mask as he shook the water droplets from his head. They landed on the parched earth with a hissed sigh. Turning towards the group, he stood a few moments taking in the scene as though surprised to find himself here. One hand reaching on auto pilot for the mug of coffee from Atticus outstretched hand. He sat by the fire quietly sipping the hot, bitter brew and it was then they noticed the note was gone from his hand. The remainder of the day passed with James half limping in his odd gait quietly beside the wagon, or seated next to the guide staring quietly ahead. A nod every now and then when a question regarding direction was put forth, and Atticus watched the exchanges with great interest. He ate what was cooked and drank water when offered, but otherwise showed no interest in either if not reminded. Cholmondeley thought he seemed pretty much his usual stoic self, save for the sadness that had entered his normally fierce gaze.

Several more days passed and Atticus, once again with keen eyes upon James, noted that he sat a little further forward in the wagon seat; as though expecting something waiting ahead on the trial. His head close to the guides as they discussed route options and his eyes continually scanned the skies for weather changes. A new restlessness and almost eagerness infused his movements and his conversation slowly returned to the familiar tics and gruff replies when inquiries were put forth. It was an early evening of darkening skies threatening to unleash a storm upon them, that he finally demonstrated a genuine display of excitement. Slapping the guide upon the back, he hopped down from the wagon and strode towards Atticus and Cholm; an actual smile stretched across his face. Atticus raised worried eyes to the gray sky that loomed above - a distant thunder heard beyond the hills.

“Thinkin of making camp ‘ere James? Before that sky opens on us?”

James shook his head and mounted his horse. “You may make camp in the dust and dirt if you wish Atticus, but I plan to sleep under a roof and with dry covers this night.”

The two men exchanged glances, barely daring to hope he spoke truth. Cholmondeley made a wide glance about them; nothing revealed but brush and sand as far as he could see.

“Doesn’t exactly look like we will find the likes of the Grillion Hotel around here James.”

Gathering his reins, James prodded his mount forward, his voice holding a hint of enthusiasm for the first time since their journey began as he called back to them.

“There is a mission in Galvaston gentlemen. Just over that hill. If you pick up your pace we will be there before nightfall.” One finger pointed skyward. “And that.”

The two men wasted no time hopping aboard the wagon, eager for the comforts of a clean, dry lodging and a proper meal. It was only a short ride beyond the hills and the mission was in their sight; James spurring his mount forward at a gallop. When they arrived, the necessary arrangements for the night’s comforts had already been made and they found James with his feet upon a weathered ottoman drinking his tea. A piece of paper held in one hand and Atticus noted it was crisp and clean. He also noted the absence of worried wrinkles or a frown upon James face. Replaced instead by a calm and relaxed countenance, though he was sure the mans’ eyes seemed a little misty. James glanced up when he noted their entry; the paper suddenly abandoned upon the scarred table top. 

“That a letter James?”

James silently stared in return. Not to be ignored or dismissed so easily after enduring his changing moods for days, Atticus pulled forth a chair and straddled the hard surface; a nail absently digging at his yellowed teeth. “Now why would you be expecting a letter in a place like this James? And more to the question… from whom?”

Still no reply as his gaze shifted from Atticus to the chemist who now joined them at the table. 

“Now I know it ain’t her letter James because I can see it’s all nice and clean… so how about it then mate? Who’s writing to ya all the way out ‘ere? And why are we trudging across this godforsaken sand and brush instead of goin’ after her?” 

Silence continued as James glance remained fixed on the sheet upon the table between them. Atticus reached a hand forth to grab it, but James pinned it down with his own fist.

Cholmondeley’s voice came low and full of reproach. “Have you given up then? I doubt the lady has given up on you. How can you just keep heading West and forget her? Throw away her letter and just forget…”

His words halted when James withdrew her soiled and barely legible letter from within his shirt pocket. He tossed it upon the table and eyes were drawn towards the dirty and bloodied fingerprints that marred the script. The sad evidence of how often her words had been read. His finger tapped upon the still visible bird mark beside her neatly scrawled name, and his eyes finally raised.

“Gentlemen, I have a plan.”

~

She’d never felt heat like this. It beat down upon them without mercy causing garments to cling and cloy in the most uncomfortable of places. A rash had developed where the sweat laden garments rubbed against her tender skin. Once again quickly turning an alarming shade of pink under the blistering sun. Bonnie Wylie had found a straw hat buried in the supplies and though it annoyed her to no end, she accepted it – somewhat gratefully. What it lacked in fashion, its merits definitely could not be denied in keeping a cooler head and the sun from her brow. She checked on the boy often; ensuring he drank enough water and insisting he ride in the wagon as much as possible to avoid the worst heat of the day. To which the boy strenuously objected since it prevented him from his favourite pastime of boring holes through their captors back as the hours upon the trail passed. She was surprised each time a request was granted. Indeed, nothing – save turning back – was denied her. She studied both men often. How their heads were often close in hushed conversation. Then Dougie’s gaze would fall on her and the weariness and worry could not be concealed. Another exchange of words and he would shake his head at his friend and march off for a spell on his own. These exchanges filled her with both apprehension and curiosity; for it was clear they did not agree on the venture they were undertaking.

The other times, she would silently plod along the dusty path, wiping tears from time to time as the trial blurred before her feet. This sadness that followed her playing like a symphony. Sometimes low and quiet and with a bittersweet tone that still allowed her to function. Other times a loud and crashing crescendo that brought forth the anger within her chest. Tempting her to recklessness. Then the refrain that would fill her heart with anguish at what had been lost and she would seek the solitude of the wagon. Often waking to find Robert by her side keeping watch while she slept through her grief. Most of the time, she was simply in a daze and performed much of her daily activities on an automatic setting. Surprised to suddenly feel Bonnie Wylie's’ gaze upon her in a careful study. She could almost convince herself he might be sorry for the hurt he had caused, but then would call the anger forth once more and the thirst for revenge would aid her clearer thinking towards an escape.

It was one night that she was walking away as the wagon bounced toward the setting sun; watching her shadow lengthening upon the desert sand before her, that something clicked in her mind. If her shadow is in front and the sun is behind… and the sun sets in the West…

_Bastard!_

They were traveling west. It made no sense as she knew with certainty that William’s family lived in the East. A place he had called Virginia. The days of dazed thinking suddenly cleared as a tornado of rage built in her mind and her eyes fixed upon the broad, lean length of his back where he stood several feet behind her, deep in conversation with their guide. Her hand reached beneath her skirt, fingers wrapping about the knife with its wicked curve and an equally twisted smile distorted her mouth. Even if the man had been facing her and seen the charge, he’d still have been hard pressed to prevent the attack. James had taught her well how to move upon a prey. All William heard was the rush of skirts and then the air filled with dust when he turned about to face what appeared to be hell unleashed in a flurry of red curling tresses and darkened eyes. Too late his hand brushed the empty place at his side, and with a howl of pain he felt the blade sink deep. A last moment feign to the left had prevented a death blow, and instead his shoulder had taken the damage. He had expected her to make the novice mistake of leaving the blade buried in his flesh, but with a cry that made his blood curl more than any foe on the battlefield, she quickly withdrew the weapon and he could see by her stance another charge was forthcoming. 

The blade raised high, the low sun glinting off the polished metal and he squinted his eyes against the glare. Her body surged forward once again, but in a blur of motion she was caught about the waist and dragged to the ground. A moment later Dougie’s howl of pain split the night air and fresh blood oozed from a slash upon his cheek. She was on her feet again in a flash; weapon at the ready and chest heaving with the exertion. Her flaming hair wild about her slender form braced for battle and he still swore despite his own blood gushing forth she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Frightening as fuck – but beautiful. Someone had taught her well and he was fairly certain he knew who that someone might be. She advanced upon him and without shame he retreated back several steps, his injured shoulder burning with an intensity that caused his eyes to blur. He could just make out how she raised her other hand, a slender finger pointing to the horizon.

“Why do we travel west William?”

He held his tongue as he ripped pieces of fabric from his shirt to bind his wound and stop the bleeding. She used the distraction to unleash another slash of the blade upon his person. He dodged just in time; the cut only a scratch upon his chest.

“Christ Lorna!”

“If you have taken me from him, why do we travel in the direction we ought to be? Where is he?” Her voice faltering slightly on the final word.

He stared back in silence once again, but she could see his jaw working furiously and that his eyes held a desperate plea. Dougie’s voice came from where he still lay upon the dirt.

“We’re far enough along now William. It don’t matter anymore.”

Her eyes shifted, and for a moment it was difficult to breathe as her mind sought to understand his words. _Far enough?_ The knife raised once again as she pressed the pirate further backwards.

“What does he mean? Far enough where… from whom? From James?!” 

William’s head had hung low and she heard a croaked _I can’t, I can’t do this anymore_ whispered into the dirt just as she lunged forward with knife aimed at his chest. Her hand seized in a vice grip from behind at the last moment, and their guide took her body to the ground with a solid check. William’s voice now loud and clear: “No, don’t hurt her!”

All the air whooshed out of her lungs and a shadow fall across her vision; but she had no voice to utter the warning. William scrambled forward to retrieve the knife from her outstretched hand, but suddenly pulled up short when he felt the long thin blade slide across his throat. His eyes lifted to find the darkened, fury filled eyes of another Delaney standing over him. And his own sword in the boys hands.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.”

Lorna’s hoarse cry, _Robert no, stop!_ stilled his hands, and the boy blinked several times in confusion. His gaze vacant but still holding the blade steady upon the exposed, vulnerable flesh. William had dropped to his knees, once again muttering into the dirt and offering no resistance to the boys’ attack. She raised to her own knees, ears straining to catch the words and William’s eyes finally sought her own. Tear marks trailing down his weather and whiskered cheeks. And finally she heard the words of long ago tumble from his anguished mouth: just as strong and clear as when another voiced them.

"Hold out!" 

~

The ship was barely managing to remain afloat. Her hull caved in by canon shot along the back of her port side where she had taken the heaviest of volleys. The attack had come as no surprise since the warship had been following them for days, steadily gaining pace. It was only a matter of time and it was almost a relief of the mounting tension and anxiety when the first shot split a hole through the stern. The Good Hope having nothing to respond to battle save the guns and knives of her crew, was doomed from the start. Though they didn’t believe the intent was to leave anyone alive anyway. The strategy simply to avoid a boarding for as long as possible. It was inevitable now as the warship seeing her so disabled, was drawing closer. Bill had already given the order to abandon ship, and watched from the wheel as Cole helped as many as could be saved into the lifeboats. This mangy and dodgy crew were not whom they sought. They came for one man only. A man they would not find. Alive at least.

A Captain is supposed to go down with his ship, but its former Captain had never intended her survival. Only that of the men who sailed. Or at least as many of them as possible given the strength and boldness of a British naval attack. He waited as long as he could, eyes scanning the boats already rowing away from the sinking ship until he could find Pearle safely seated within the hull. Her bonnet covered head standing out among the bald or greasy haired heads of the sailors. Satisfied he climbed into the last boat and gave the order to lower the vessel. The crew quickly rowing away as the navy ship came alongside, a boarding crew quickly jumping to her splintered and smoking deck. Bill watched from his spyglass as the ship was searched. A hearty laugh carrying across the waters as he saw the commander in charge angrily shouting into the wind. Even if the cargo they sought was onboard, the water seeping through the blown hull had long ago rendered it useless. As for the human they had come to claim; they found only a black hat and coat within the burning Captain’s Cabin. Those familiar items and a blackened and charred body the only clues to suggest he might have been there. The commander raised his own spyglass towards the departing boats, and suddenly all aboard returned to their battle ship. The pursuit would be swift. 

With a sinking in his gut Bill knew the hardest fight was still to come.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A longer one, feels abound.

A hushed silence had fallen over the night and all stood staring at William; kneeling in the dirt mumbling apologies and those familiar words that had halted Lorna’s vengeance. Standing over his knelt form, her voice an insistent whisper through gritted teeth, the wicked curved blade still clenched in her fist.

“What did you say?”

His voice broke as he uttered once more. “Hold out. You must hold out.”

Her heart pounded alarmingly fast within her chest as her mind recalled those terrifying moments from what seemed ages ago, and the steady assurance of James’s gaze as he uttered those same words.

“How do you know that? Who told you those words?”

Finally his eyes raised and a sad, weary smile crossed his face. “You know who told me those words Lorna.”

Her breath caught and she fell to her own knees beside him in the dirt; brushing the edge of the sword Robert still held away. A thin red line of blood oozed down his throat. The fear that coiled in her gut causing her breath to hitch as the worst possible scenario assaulted her mind.

“Is he dead William? Is that why we go alone?” She clutched his arm and he winced in pain. Through blurred vision she pressed harder into the wound. “Just tell me if he’s dead. Please. Please William.” 

William bite back the pain from beneath her probing fingers, knowing he deserved this small amount of torture. Fighting his own turmoil at the sight of the tears he had caused and to hear the agony in her voice. The love that leaked out from every pore as she sought to understand why James might had given him those words.

“He was alive and well when I last saw him.” At her questioning look. “No, not at a whorehouse, but a warehouse. You were right about that. Dragged me inside by my boots after laying me out upon the ground. He was as fierce and determined as ever and unharmed - save a few bruises on us both - when I last spoke to him. He had a use for me, he said.”

“A use?”

“To get you safely away from the city. From him. He was being followed. You’d already been injured. They were coming.”

She sighed deeply, hand set on her hips. “I grow weary of holding out for Delaney men.” Her head shook back and forth as sadness once again filled her features. “No. It can’t be true. James would never send me away.” Her chin tilted up and her voice was steady.

William’s eyes softened and he grasped the hand still laid upon his shoulder. “No, the old James would not. The one who believed – trusted, in nothing save his own carefully orchestrated plans. That man was quite selfish and would not have sent you away.” His voice lowered to a hushed whisper as he leaned towards her. “His mind is fragile Lorna.” 

Lorna’s eyes began to brim now with tears and her mouth compressed tightly as she fought back choking cries. _Yes, that she did know._ His hand rubbed her own gently; a feeble attempt to soften his words; to pass understanding. He gently squeezed once to emphasize the truth that lay in the middle. “The James that loves you. That calculated the risk and saw it was not worth the threat to you. The man that cares more for you, than he does for himself or any plan: that James has sent you away.” He sat down upon his heels, head raised. “I’m honored that he trusted me with your safety.”

The crack of her palm was loud as a gunshot in the quiet setting. His cheek already bearing a stinging red mark as she leaned forward and spat angry words into his face. 

“Honour?! Honour Bonnie Wylie?! Gentleman pirate.” She rose and spat into the dirt at his feet. “You frighten and mishandle a child, force a woman to deny her love for one man to choose you, though you know it akin to killing her, drug us for days … and you have the goddamn nerve to speak to me of honour?!”

He took the second strike without a flinch. 

His head hung low once again. “I offer no excuse for those actions, save I was told to be convincing. Do you think I enjoyed a single moment knowing how much I was hurting you?” She paced back and forth before him, eyes spitting fire and he could see it would be a long road to mending this injury between them. “And you said I was only a fair rate actor at best.” 

He shrugged his good shoulder at the glare she cast. “I ask you to be honest Lorna – would you have come willingly? Been willing to leave him to ensure your own safety? Or was it the fate of the boy alone that prompted your willingness?” 

She paused at the questions, her shoulders finally slumping forward. Her teeth biting down on her bottom lip so hard he could see she had drawn blood. The truth she knew inside forcing the slow shaking of her head. Still the point needed to be made. 

“You men and your bloody plans. I would have liked the courtesy of my own choice William.”

She presented her back, the anger rising at the audacity of men to think they alone had the intellect or resolve to find a solution to a problem. Where was the trust in her own? William paused a moment, carefully considering her words and couldn’t deny the fair point she made. _Didn’t they all want the freedom of their choices?_ The greater truth he, and James, knew as military men was the less who know about a plan; the better. Though he doubted he could convince her of that in these tense moments. 

“Yes, I see that now. Our fear for you perhaps over-rode the ability to see that truth. We have erred in calculating your strength and resolve, and I can only beg your forgiveness in that matter. Please consider that your choice may very well have led to your death – and his?” He saw that she had half turned towards him at those words, and sought her gaze with earnest. “This is what James wanted above all else Lorna – you safe. That was worth the risk of your anger – or even your hatred. And I will gladly bear the brunt of both if you will try to see his reasoning? I had to make you leave. I had to make you write that most convincing letter for the soldiers who were coming….”

“Take me back.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

She grabbed the sword from the boys hands and turned once again to face him, feet braced; her voice thick with anger and pain. “Take me to him now.” 

“I can’t do that. If by chance they have followed him, and you go back to him now, you’ll endanger yourself and him. He will surrender himself to protect you. You’ll only be…”

“A weakness.” Lorna interjected, the dejection infusing her voice with a resigned defeat. 

“You are anything but weak my dear. But you most definitely will be seen as his. And if they don’t kill you on the spot… or by some luck you manage to escape – they will hunt you forever. All this will be for naught.”

The tears fell freely now as the sword slipped from her hands and she slowly turned away. Pausing as he called her name, she turned to face him and the look in her eye immediately made William think of James own heartbroken one as together they laid out the plan. He remembered the words James spoke as easily as if he were told only moments prior. It was the best he could give her now. 

“There is no one James trusts more than you. His complete faith that you would stand strong for him. _I know her, she will not willingly leave me._ He knew that it would require an act of force and threat to the boy. _But she will hold out – tell her that William. When she is about to kill you._ He actually chuckled at that. _Tell her those words and she will feel me and know I am with her.”_

He continued on, seeing the fight drain out of her body. Heard her breath turn shallow. “He loves you Lorna and he can’t lose you. He said you were the love that was waiting for him. That if we arrived first, to not give up on him – that he’s not going to let you down.” His own eyes pleading her to see the gift that was between them. “Most people live a lifetime hoping for that kind of love.” 

His own voice cracked with the emotion of James words. Of the weight of a love that stretched across a barren landscape and landed within their tiny camp as a tangible force. She stood small and silent; determined to hold tight to the anger at being used. Grasping instead the rising emotion that came with knowing he was still alive; and he could see it all play across her face as he spoke. Her eyes lowered and the tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. 

“Does he follow?”

William only nodded a reply before adding. “Probably just less than a week behind us if they have traveled well each day. I left a letter at a Mission to assure him you were well.”

All practicality now, though he sensed she used it as a shield against the emotions warring inside her.

“Where do we go?”

“To Port Diego, on the west coast. He will meet us shortly before, or we will wait him there. When he arrives, you will sail up the coast to Nootka.”

Her hands twisted together a few times as she nodded silently. Her glance flicked towards the boy who stood with wet cheeks of his own and his body trembling. She offered an encouraging smile before stepping towards William once again. Her voice low and measured and sending a chill throughout the men. 

“I have a plan of my own. When we arrive, if James does not follow soon after… you will walk and walk and walk until you find him, and then bring him back to me. If anything happens to him William, I will blame you.” She took a step closer and lay her palm against the reddened welt she had opened on his cheek. “If you think the devil can unleash hell… just wait and see what the Queen of the damned will unleash upon you if I lose him.”

William could only humbly nod. He believed every word. Her back held straight and her head held high as she walked to the edge of their campsite, standing just where the glow of the fire touched the dark edges of night. Amazed at her strength and her courage in the face of such unrelenting trials. In truth, she shamed them both. She was more than any man could hope to find in a life partner and he wondered briefly what could ever break her. Make her lose hope. No sooner did the thought come and he watched the shadowed outline of her shoulders tremble before her whole form crumbled into the dust. Only soft sounds of weeping reached his ears as he rose and took a step forward, but was halted by an arm and turned to face the dark and determined eyes of the other Delaney.

It was the boy who went to her.

~

“I had a use for him.”

James stared quietly at the letter upon the table. Half buried beneath her own. One containing lies laid out in her beautiful script. The other he desperately hoped the truth laid out by William’s slanted penmanship. They were well. They were on their way. Yet, she still didn’t know it all had been set in motion by him. She’d be angry. He could almost see the firm set of her mouth and the tilt of her chin and he smiled softly; knowing he wouldn’t want her any other way. He could only hope his words would soothe her injured spirit. Atticus and Cholmondeley exchanged brief glances. Each wondering if it was in fact tea in James cup. 

“What ya on about James?”

His head cocked to the side. His smile twisted manically. 

“Three directions and where will they follow, hhhmm? One by sea, two by land and the acrid sent of ashes in the wind from the war behind to cover the scent.” He loosed one of his odd versions of a laugh. “Whether Company or Crown, the men will be stretched far too thin. Certainly too much to worry about a fickle actress who claimed the bigger, less dangerous prize.” His gaze lifted upward, though he murmured no thanks to a higher being. “She is safe.” 

A shadow passed behind his eyes and his demeanor shifted to sadness. He rose suddenly and walked towards the sideboard where a bottle of some unknown liquid sat. Grabbing it and three glasses he returned to the table and poured out three shots. They lifted questioning eyes as he raised one glass high.

“But first… to Godders.” 

They sensed there was more he wanted to say, but the shadow still clouded his eyes and the low timbre of his voice faltered. They raised their own glasses in similar fashion. All three clinked while they echoed their own sentiments to their fallen friend. James fell back in his chair and grew silent once more. His drink forgotten in his hand. Atticus leaned forward.

“James, are ya sayin you be the one to send your woman away?”

A wide eyed stare and slow nod came in reply.

“With William?” Atticus and Cholmondeley couldn’t hide the uncertainty in their eyes.

“She ain’t gonna like being left out of the plan. Are ya sure that was wise James? The man did seem interested in the lady himself.”

James grunted. Reaching for his glass he drained the contents in a single burning gulp before settling back and raising a finger to point at both of them.

“You think Mrs. Delaney might prefer the dashing gentleman to a brooding, half crazy, flesh eating savage with a price on his head?” His grunt was mocking, if a grunt could be such. “Who could blame the lady, hhhmm?”

His fingers dropped to the table to tap upon her letter. “That’s what most will be willing to believe, now won’t they.” His hand reached up to tap alongside his temple. “But I know the lady better than all of you.”

Cholmondeley shook his head, and leaned back, his hands moving in a slow clapping motion.

“That’s fucking utterly brilliant.” At Atticus’s confused stare, he explained. “The King’s men who came to the house saw the letter. They will believe she has left James for William.” Atticus still stared with lips curled in confusion at James. “For good Atticus. They won’t bother searching for her any longer.” He turned to James and smiled broadly his appreciation for the ploy. “And they certainly will not hang the lover of a Lord of the Realm with a very influential and rich family name.”

James refilled his glass and raised it once more to clink with the chemist. “No, they will not.”

Atticus still sat working it all out in his mind. “So, this… us, being out here all alone without the Mrs. It was all to protect her?”

James brow raised. “You disagree?”

Atticus quickly shook his head. “Course not, it is brilliant James, she’ll be mighty pissed for a spell I imagine though.” He paused, brow deeply furrowing. “But uh, one little detail mate, doesn’t that mean they are following us instead?”

James shrugged his shoulders as if that was the least of his concerns. “Well yes, most likely.”

“Well as long as we are clear on that James, because I like a little forewarning if my throat is likely to be sliced in my sleep.”

James eyes narrowed, as he suspected Atticus had dispatched more than a few souls in a similar fashion a time or two himself. “Atticus, perhaps you should snore less…”

“And the ship?” Cholmondeley’s interruption came, and then breath held as his mind considered the very real possibility that all aboard had been deemed expendable in the realization of James and Williams’ planning.

“Oh they most definitely will follow my ship. Since they think myself and many barrels of gunpowder are aboard.”

Cholmondeley smiled wide once again. “But you are not.” 

Atticus halted their next shot of celebration. “Aye, but the gunpowder James? Those are warships out there mate. I said she was a good old steady girl, but she can’t fight a British Naval Ship fully armed. That gunpowder will be at the bottom of the sea for sure James.”

“No.”

“No?”

James shook his head again. “No, it won’t.”

Atticus leaned back in his chair. “Are you gonna make me guess then?”

James leaned forward. “It won’t be at the bottom of the sea because it’s safely hidden aboard a ship bearing the company flag of the Johnston Family Distillery. You were right Atticus, Bill is a fine Captain and most helpful at following orders set for the greater good.”

Atticus jaw dropped, but he couldn’t hide his pride at the brilliant strategy James had employed. One step ahead of them all once again. “Well, you and William have been busy, haven’t ya?” He smiled sardonically as he needled James further. “And ‘ere I thought you wanted to tear his throat out with them sharp teeth of yers.”

James grunted and leaned back to sip his drink at a more leisurely pace.

“You’d better hope he’s not busy right now James. Might be the one flaw in your plan.”

James eyes narrowed darkly. “Careful now Atticus… be very careful. The lady is steady. She is the only person I trust completely. I am certain I will have some explaining…” Atticus coughed and he was sure he heard the word _groveling_ within it. “but she will not be turned from me.”

“Oh I ‘ave no doubts about yer Mrs. James… it’s the gentleman I question. You have not a worry ‘bout him then?”

James shook his head, his eyes never wavering. His hand raised to rub along his forehead as he smiled at the sailor. “Atticus, the one thing you can count on more than a mans’ passion – is his pride. William has no interest in being another spare.”

Cholmondeley nearly spat his drink upon the table as the laugh broke from him. Atticus merely shook his head, convinced this devil across from him could beguile the actual devil himself. It might even save his sorry soul from damnation since they true ruler of hell probably feared the competition. He leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Alright then m’boy, tell us the rest of the plan.”

~

The skies darkened above as each party of the League of the Damned settled to sleep in their own corner of the world; each one enduring their own struggle in the wake of his plan. The remaining boats from the Naval attack drifted quietly upon the ocean tides with only the stars to light their way. An eerie calm settling in the wake of the swift battle that had left one boat still afloat. Having barely escaped capture, Bill searched and listened throughout the night for either a glimpse, or her voice raised over the waves. Holding on to the hope that the eerie quiet might mean Pearle only rested well in the hull of her own boat; and not at the bottom of the sea. Willing his tired eyes to remain open in search of the other ship he knew was nearby. And his grip on the burned deck board that kept him afloat not to loosen.

James and the others enjoyed their first comfortable night on the trail since their departure. Snuggled under thick blankets while the rain beat down upon the tiled roof and the storm raged outside. Now knowing they had direction, their confidence in this dangerous man restored. They retired early sensing the impatience to travel quickly that seeped from James pores, and indeed they were roused from their beds before dawn’s early light had barely cracked an eye upon the land. After considering their doubtful words regarding Lorna so easily accepting his plan, he was eager to lessen the distance between them post haste so he could present his case face to face. The need to see her again a burning in his heart that wouldn’t diminish.

Within their camp, Lorna struggled to survive a storm of her own that brewed inside. Robert lay close beside her inside the wagon; offering what comfort he could when she would succumb to tears once more. His own tender heart breaking when he sensed the anger rising in her as she tried to understand what James had done. Though she assured him when asked she loved him still. She would hold. In the calmer periods while she slept, he fought his own worries that the dream was slipping away and wished he remembered how to pray. 

William’s head poked through the canvas many times, inquiring as to her welfare. Though her back remained stoutly turned towards him, Robert felt his own anger at the man gradually dissipate with each appearance. He wondered if it meant that he was becoming a man – that he understood why James had chosen this path for them. The resolve William had to maintain in order to see it through, though it hurt him also in the process. 

_You are one of us now._

They were all just parts of the plan of a mad man. Perhaps he would tell her when she woke how James had gambled with his young life in a careless manner. Of the never-ending stirring of stinking, volatile vats. The fear of being hanged that entered his dreams. Yes, his own flesh and blood, whatever James may be, had done deeds perhaps worse than William. Yet, he also knew he would do anything, include give his own young life, to keep her safe. Indeed, had he not lay down in a coffin to save them all? It was all very complicated, and yet he held to the idea of something better waiting at the conclusion. Perhaps sometimes it was necessary for a good man to do a bad deed – if the reason was honorable. It was his first small step in learning forgiveness and a lesson he would carry the rest of his days. Understanding eyes met William’s worried gaze and briefly nodded. He would care for her now; until James arrived.

William was roused from sleep barely after dawn had broken by the smell of smoke and the sounds of feminine cursing. Rolling over upon his pad, his gaze settled upon Lorna at their fire struggling to revive the embers. The fanning of her skirts over the coals only producing more smoke than actual fire. Quietly he rose and strode towards to offer assistance, a stab in his heart when she turned an angry glare upon him. By the time he had arrived, she was making strides to leave.

“Would you really rather catch your chill than allow me to assist?”

His words fell on deaf ears as her steps already carried her several feet away from him. He pulled a letter from inside his coat and holding it high called to her once more.

“I should think it would be nice to read his letter by a warm fire. With a hot cup of tea?”

There was a brief moment when he thought she might actually refuse. The independent streak seeking to hold its claim upon her mind; but the war was brief and within seconds she had flown to his side and snatched the letter from his hand. Before she could tear it open, he gently grasped her wrist.

“Now that I hope you are in a better place of mind to hear his words?”

Lorna paused a moment. Knowing herself quite capable of judging the merit of his words no matter her state of mind. Head tilted, she peered at him with an arched brow, while running a nail under the wax seal bearing the familiar raven’s footprints. Flipping the letter over, her finger ran over the neatly inked scrawl of her name and she could not suppress the smile that stretched across her face or the surge of her heartbeat. Quickly she settled upon the ground before the fire William now stoked back to life with gentle blows of air; nodding absently to his request of _that cup of tea._ Her eyes eagerly devoured the words he had committed to the page.

_Lorna,_

_When I returned to London, I committed myself to doing foolish things – and done them I have. Reckless and dangerous deeds performed in the service of a greater good. This is what the trickster wants me to believe; but the raven spoke truths. I am not a good man, nor a well man. My own mind the weakness which plagues me endlessly. I cannot trust its fragility towards protecting the one thing I cannot lose in this world. You, my love._

_From the moment I first saw you, real love began to take its shape in my heart. Those visions of a past I clung to, plaguing me endlessly, slowly replaced by a future I never dreamed possible. I see my mother standing waist deep in the river; young and hopeful in her bridal fare. I now carry the same vision of you; beautiful, strong and proud as you wait for me to take my place at your side._

_My heart. My love. My wife._

_All my planning has come to this: to step foot on the shores of my Mother’s Land with you by my side. My hand in yours as we take our first steps into our future; or the future holds nothing of value for me._

_Forgive my foolishness. My reckless bent. This mind that falters. Soon I will be with you. Until then, I carry before me visions of holding you again; and that painted sky in your eyes._

_Love, James._

~

She never brushed aside a single tear. They flowed and merged until they fell upon the sun reddened flesh that covered her heart. Quickly she scrambled from the fireside and returned to the wagon, ducking beneath the canvas cover. The sounds of rummaging reached William’s ears and he wondered what on earth James might have said to set her on such a mission. All answered soon when she emerged with paper and quill and once again sat by the fire. The scrawl of the quill across the parchment blending with the crackling of the logs. Now her hand brushed the odd tear away from cheeks that once again held a pinkish bloom, as she focused intently upon the page. Her smile stretched wide as with head bent she wrote in one long flourish. Until finally, signed and sealed, she handed it over to William and glimpsing the neatly scrawled name James across the front, he silently nodded. The smile she gave brought hope to his heart. For her. For them. And a tiny bit for himself. For he knew the value of friendship and the loss of these in his own life would be a sad blow he could not bear. 

_Dear James,_

_First a river. Than an ocean. Now the never ending stretches of sand and untamed wilderness. I would have followed you anywhere. My love held safe in this heart that beats so loud I fear it will wake those wild beasts that howl at the moon and stars. Though I cannot fault them for their lonely cries, while my own are cast upon the evening winds. They sing, and I sing; our shared call for what is missing echoing among these great birch and evergreens._

_Know this truth my love, you can trust my mind as well as my heart. Though the sting of your plan did set its barb deep, I know that I would do as much for you. After a hundred rivers and endless oceans, or more of my flesh be pierced: I would still choose you. My dragon lover. All the countless, tiny grains of sands my feet now tread, cannot contain the vastness of my love for you._

_I lie in wait, counting the hours until you will be with me again. Dreaming of the days when together we will walk the woods and wilds of that promised land. I believe your mind may be yet strong and sound, for I always thought an outdoor wedding would be most beautiful._

_Now fly quickly dragon, raven, whatever you may be, and meet me across these barren lands._

_Holding out, love Lorna_

 

James held the letter in shaky hands, relief flooding through his entire being to see her love so boldly and beautifully stated. Drawing the other letter from his pocket, he tossed it to the hungry flames. Watched its lies disintegrate into ash. Kissing the one that spoke truth before folding it gently and placing it in the pocket, above his heart. 

Where she would always be.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messages carved to last and the distance between the two lovers lessens each passing day.  
> They've come to the river - will Lorna cross this one alone too?

Dust. She coughed into her sleeve as another mouthful kicked up from the horse’s feet. It became the thing they squinted through while slowly plodding across countryside laid out like a patchwork quilt of greens and browns: every now and then a thread of blue in the edging. The ever present gritty layer on their sweaty faces and increasingly dirty clothing. Even the rains could never fully sweep it away; it just changed to a thick, clump of heavy mud on their boots slowing their progress through this strange new land. Each day bringing new burdens of life on the trail, but also opening a whole new world of wonder. It seemed Robert’s head never ceased moving in all directions, his eyes taking in every stitch of changing scenery; his senses soaking in every scent and sight. There was a different fragrance here in the warm air than the cool, musty damp of home. Lorna could hardly blame him, her own curiosity easing her mind from the persistent restlessness that plagued her. When walking made her feet weary and blistered she would take to the wagon seat, only to grow restless and bored with sitting still. Not one raised in the country or familiar with horses, she never grew accustomed to sitting a horse, though William offered patient instruction. She might have fared better if not for the lingering resentment that caused her to still persistently ignore him. Their guide Hakan had little trouble gaining her rapt attention, as he was often inclined to tell interesting tales while she sat beside him. Although they were not really things she might have been interested in, it passed the time and he had a quiet, gentle way about him that calmed her restless spirit. They passed the scene where a wagon accident occurred as it was crossing a river and he sadly informed that all souls were drowned. Except the horse who was found downstream shivering on the riverbank, eyes wide with fear and the reins caught about a piece of driftwood. A few words uttered in his Native tongue as they passed by and he urged her to repeat the sounds. She had a good ear and caught on quick. A savage bear attack had occurred in those woods over yonder, and she noted how he steered the wagon in a wide berth. Behind them came the low groans of the men hoping for a little shade for a few miles.

Thus if she dragged her feet at times, it certainly could be related to the sweeping vastness of this land they traversed, and the wealth of stories waiting to be told. Surely not an attempt to slow their progress. Just mere coincidence that each inquiry she directed Hakan’s way resulted in the slowing of the wagon, or an actual full stop while he amused her with some interesting tale. Robert would press closer, fascinated by the Native legends of ravens and crows; but especially those of deep wisdom such as the two wolves. _The one you feed, boy – the one you feed!_

An impatient sigh raised from William each time they were forced to stop and he soon grew weary of the forced distractions. At the sight of Lorna’s raised brow, he at least exercised his own wisdom in holding his tongue. For how could he blame her for wanting the distance between her and James lessened with each passing mile? Her letter had been dropped off when they last replenished their supplies and he imagined James own feet would see little rest after reading her words. 

Once more he pulled his mount up short as the wagon came to a stop at the side of the trail. Swatting the persistent tiny flies that seemed to follow them from one location to the next as he watched both Hakan and Lorna climb down from the wagon and walk towards an old tree at the edge of the trail. Its bark peeled in long strips to reveal the shiny golden wood beneath where several carvings were visible. He knew that these were markers upon the trails that the Natives used to leave signals to one another. Hakan and James’s guide had already agreed on this ancient method of communicating prior to the departure from New Orleans. It was a simple but effective way of sharing information with those who followed, whether it was weather, a change of route, or where to find a decent meal and lodging. He imagined their guide was informing James’ guide concerning the trial and how far they traveled each day. He scratched his chin as he noted Lorna’s bent form over the tree, although not surprised that her keen mind had also noticed this habit. With some annoyance he strode quietly behind them intent on asking the guide if he could not both drive the team and relay whatever new and fascinating bear and chipmunk legend he was currently imparting in order to appease her inquisitive – and stalling – nature. Instead he found Lorna squatted before the tree trunk with her curved blade in hand and the guide hovering beside her. Seeing the flash of light upon the knife he reflexively rubbed the bandages upon his injured shoulder. A cringe and shiver ran up his back when the sound of the blade cutting into the bark reached his ears. He peered over her shoulder.

“What the hell is it?”

Hakan said something in his Native tongue and pointed to the sky. William leaned closer, grazing her shoulder and earning an impatient glare before she turned back to her carving work. She paused and looked to Hakan who was nodding his head in approval.

“Do you think he will understand?”

He nodded his head several times, saying _yes yes_ and once again pointing a finger skyward.

“Stars, yes. Good guides, he will know.”

William cast shaded eyes to the bright sun overhead, blinking through watery eyes. “What? Stars in the daytime?”

Hakan jabbed a light punch upon his shoulder causing a wince of pain he bite back through gritted teeth, before glancing to follow the guides finger as it traced the pattern she had carved. The image not immediately clear to him until she stepped back and with a pointed flourish and flash of the blade before his eyes, returned the knife to her side. Stepping past him with a roll of her eyes and a brush of her hands, Lorna walked back towards the wagon. William bent to examine her work, his eyes once again tracing the pattern of one, two, three… seven dots? Then suddenly recognition dawning, he turned and called towards her retreating back.

“But why?”

No response came, nor did she halt her steps. Hakan once again pointing to the sky and then his hand stretched forth to point towards the trail behind them, before settling over his heart. A dreamy eyed look upon his countenance. William stared at her mark and then the ones left by both wheel and hooves and slowly shook his head. He imagined this would be added to the tales the guide would tell on future treks. Chuckling softly he once again glanced towards the wagon where she sat; eyes forward and quietly waiting. 

The Plough. A guiding light.

She was leaving her own messages for James.

~

James fingers reached forth and touched the jagged points carved into the tree; lingering on each one as though he’d found something of rare value. The hint of a smile cracked the stoic lines of his face and he felt his heart thump in his chest as he stared at the familiar pattern of stars. Barely still believing his heart capable of these mismatched beats at all. His mind stretching back to the smooth glide of a ship over black waves while the inked canvas stretched above, and the easy weight of her pressed against his side as they gazed upon the brilliant points.

It had to be her. Who else would know this symbol and carve it upon the tree he would eventually pass?

His guide Paco leaning over him to peer at the mark and then turning confused eyes first to him and then to sky. One finger poked upon James naked chest. James briefly smiled and then nodded. She was leaving messages to him in this ancient bark. Marks that would survive the test of time. The evidence of her love carved into the landscape of this growing nation. His own impatience to be with her growing in leaps that translated to an almost punishing pace across the distance still between them. Barely pausing to rest and seek sustenance, let alone a full night’s sleep for weary bodies. Though he would pause at each new mark he found: another Sankofa on the back of a wooden town sign; what may have been a lobster, and he laughed out loud at the size of the claws compared to the body, knowing it was how she probably still saw the sea creature in her mind. An anchor that reminded him of a promise still owed. Until finally he stood before what was definitely a raven, but he scratched his head at the smaller bird perhaps (?) which perched beside. Eyes squinted he noted their wings stretched forth towards one another, though a small distance remained between. His finger reached out and touched the carving and drawing the digit back he saw the yellow powder upon the tip. Biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as his vision blurred and his heart hammered when it finally came to him – her rather rudimentary attempt at a yellow canary. 

Suddenly he missed her with an intensity he’d never known. Not even in twelve long years torn from the home and love that were in truth neither. Suddenly aware of just how used he had become to her occupying his spaces. Turning a corner in the old, drafty Delaney home to find her seated reading in the chair. Or crossing the worn planks of his ship and there she’d be standing gazing over the waters. She’d been the steady object his eyes automatically sought without his mind even knowing it for months. Except these past few weeks when there had been not a single trace of her to be found. But now, here she was leaving her mark in his spaces once more. His knees threatening to buckle as he stared at the two symbols: so close and yet a distance remained, but still reaching forth. Wiping a dirt stained hand across even dirtier cheeks he rose and reached down deep to quell the overwhelming feelings. He was close now. He felt it. Straightening and moving towards his horse, a sudden chuckle burst forth as he took one last look at the carved birds.

Seems his father wasn’t the only one who was shit at drawing birds.

But he knew these ones would only be burned upon his heart forever. As he settled into the saddle and spurred his mount forward, he came alongside Atticus who was staring intently at the carvings. Turning towards James with a teasing smile.

“Your Mrs. leave that James?”

His eyes slightly narrowed, waiting for some ruthless teasing to commence, and he nodded warily. Atticus only smiled and nodded his head as he squinted up at him.

“Yea, seems fitting don’t it? Horace were always drawing this and that.” He slapped James upon the leg as he passed by. “Never was much a drawer myself, that’s why I got me book. Must be a Delaney thing eh James?”

For once James couldn’t hide his smile. It was perhaps the first time in his life he considered that his dad had done something right, in choosing Miss Lorna Bow to carry the Delaney name.

~

Atticus, who never took much to horseback either, kept his eyes upon James broad naked back as he plodded along behind. The tan that deepened each day and the black bands stood out a little less visibly, yet somehow he became more tribal looking as each day passed. His hair longer and beard not so neatly trimmed gave him the appearance of belonging among this wild and forlorn landscape. When seated with Paco, the two seemed almost Native brothers from the back, and it was only James aristocratic features that hinted he was anything more. Atticus would watch the two during their smoke bath rituals by the fire at night and sometimes think how very much like his father he seemed, and then other moments he was entirely his own man. Whatever had happened to him during his time in Africa had clearly marked more than just his body, and he could only hope that this new path they sought would carry him far from the poisoned chalice that was the Delaney legacy. He felt his own kind of almost fatherly pride that James was making his own way in this new world. He was certain his choice in a partner would ensure he made better choices than his father before him.

Every so often they would encounter Native tribes upon the trail and they would scan James markings with great curiosity. One even daring to touch his inked flesh, only to pull away when with a scowl the Twi language rushed forth. Others they noted gave their entourage a wide circle when spotting James striding half naked and barefoot within the brush, a spear he had fashioned one night by the fire held high in the air and an intense look of concentration upon his face. A hunter comfortable in his landscape. Or when during a particular tense standoff where Paco desperately attempted to communicate, to no success, and James jumped from the back of the wagon: wearing nothing but a ratty loin cloth made from a torn shirt, his face covered in ash and what looked like blood on his chin and the strange words falling from his tongue. Everyone, including his own group, taking several steps backwards as he strode through the campsite wild eyed and muttering unintelligible words. Cholmondeley heard the word _shaman_ whispered among some of the Natives and watched as they did an awkward half bow and slowly shuffled backwards. Others mumbled something that sounded like _diablo,_ and Paco mouthed silently to them _devil._ James seemingly unaware of any of them while he waved a bundle of smoking sweet grass about the air as though chasing away unseen apparitions. The tribe left without a word and Atticus turned to James, though his eyes were won’t to focus on nothing in particular. 

“Quick thinking there mate, eh?”

James only briefly glanced, and then picking up his spear with a grunt wandered off into the bushes nearby. To say James was deep in his element in the wilds was akin to that saying about pigs and shit. Atticus shook his head, recalling William’s previous words: thank the stars he was on their side.

~

A painful ache in her side brought Pearle’s eyes snapping open. Above was only blackness dotted in blurry dots and she wondered briefly if she had gone blind in the many explosions of gunfire and canon shot. A slow blink cleared her vision to reveal the night sky above, and the twisted leg of a dead sailor beneath her. Glancing around the small boat it became clear she was the only survivor of the attack. The bloodied and bloated bodies of the sailors causing her stomach to flip and she quickly scrambled to retch over the side of the boat. More bodies and parts could be seen floating upon the dark waters and she quickly turned back to huddle on the bottom, blotting out both sight and smell as best she could. Her entire body shivering in the cold night air until she feared her teeth would crack. The silence felt eerie out here on the deep ocean and she was glad that the waters were calm as her mind turned towards Bill and wondered how he had fared during the battle. She would not be able to search until morning, assuming she survived the night. The cold wet seeping through her thin dress and straight into her bones. The thought that she might be the only one remaining sending another chill over her tired body, but she also knew she might be the only who could save any survivors: especially Bill if he was out there.

Spurred to action, she fought the rising gorge in her stomach and proceeded to strip the dead men of any salvageable clothing, and then one by one hauled their bodies overboard; committing them to their watery graves with the only prayer she knew. A moment longer to linger over the lifeless form of the hulking Cole who had protected her with his own huge frame during the fight. She pressed a kiss upon her fingers and then lay them upon his cold, pale cheek before sending him to join his fallen mates. Trying to gauge her position in the moonlight, she rowed the boat slowly among the sea littered with debris and bodies to see if anyone still lived. It soon became clear by the amount of bodies and splinted wood that the other boat had been completely destroyed and she slumped upon the edge of the boat with a cry of defeat. Crying soon gave way to the fitful sleep of the weary and depressed, as the boat floated and bumped among the various debris. She did not notice the hand that grabbed the edge, or hear the weak moan of her name. Only pulled to wakefulness when the wet plops of cold sea water fell upon her face and her eyes opened to find Bill leaning over her sleeping form. She might have thought she was dreaming him still alive if not for the cold, wet of his body pulling her close and the press of chilled lips to her own. He held her close for several minutes, until she quietly pushed him away and began to strip the wet clothes from his body. His brow raised and the quirk of a smile played about his blue tinged lips, until with an amused smile she pressed the dry clothes she had gathered into his hands. He quickly changed and then pulled her down to lay upon the boat’s hull, their bodies pressed close seeking warmth while they gazed wordlessly at the stars shining brightly above. Until they both drifted into sleep secure in the safety of one anothers’ arms. It was the blast of a horn that roused them from slumber, and their eyes fell on the huge hull of a ship pulled alongside their smaller craft; as Bill read the name aloud; _Johnston Family Distillery Inc.,_

They both looked at one another as the relief flooded their faces and Bill spoke as he pulled her to standing.

“By god, William’s come through hasn’t he.” 

It was only a short time later they stood warm, dry and fed gazing out over the sea that would lead them to their next adventure. The treacherous waters of the Cape Horn pass. At her hesitant gaze, Bill gave a firm squeeze as he pulled her into the shelter of his arms.

“No fretting now luv, we’ve got this far haven’t we?”

She smiled wide and stood on her toes to pull him down for a kiss. It didn’t matter to Pearle anyway; she was right where she wanted to be and it was already more than she had ever dreamed possible.

~

Through the flickering flames she could still just make out the twisted horizon of the landscape that lay ahead and wondered if the mountains would be as difficult and monotonous a journey, as the alien plains they had already crossed. Hakan had mentioned a mighty river not far from their camp; the crossing likely to hold them up for several days if the waters ran deep. She could not deny the idea of bathing and washing her clothing a most tempting thought – not to mention the wait that would only bring James closer. The barren landscape glowed orange under a burnt sky and she kept her eyes fixed on the burning flames instead. Though she was wont to cast a gaze into the nearby shadows seeking out where Robert, William and Dougie had wandered; snares and traps in hand. The boy seemed better at forgiveness than she; his former bond with the man establishing itself once again. How could it not when there was so much to learn – hunting, fishing, navigation and so many Native legends to tell – and only the men to teach him. He had even taken to sleeping outside by the fire on dry evenings. Only slipping back into the wagon tent to press close to her side when the coyotes howled during the night. He was learning so much and she could only imagine what an adventure this must seem to a young boy. While she had only her thoughts and the washing of dishes and laundry to occupy her time and mind. She felt the press of a warm mug into her hands and raised her gaze to Hakan, who smiled gently.

“Pine needle tea. Good for body.”

She smiled a grateful, but doubtful smile and raised the mug to her lips to take a hesitant sip. It wasn’t all together unpleasant and the warmth of the brew was welcomed in the early evening chill. How it could be so damn hot during the day and so cold at night she’d never understand. As she took another sip, and spied the men watching Robert carefully set a snare, it suddenly occurred to her that she could learn something from this land as well.

“Hakan.” The guide turned from where he was preparing a light meal by the fire, and she raised the mug. “Thank you, it certainly helps. Would you teach me? About the medicines you use?”

A bright smile crossed his face and he nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes tomorrow we begin.” His hand gently pushed the bottom of the mug towards her mouth. “But now drink, no more sad.”

The warmth of the fire around her and the brew within her went a long way to easing her troubled heart and her eyes began to feel heavy. Beneath sagging lids she watched as Dougie settled himself by the fire and accepted another mug from Hakan, though she doubted his contained pine needle tea. Her head briefly raised to search for the boy and William, until Dougie’s calm voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Heart to heart – man to man you know.”

Exhausted and lulled by the flickering flames as darkness fell over the land, she could only drowsily nod. Somewhere in her sleepy brain concluding that it was good that bridges not be burned, and that one mistake did not a man make. Had not her own love a host of them behind him? They were all just struggling to find their way and they needed each other more than ever – for surely there were still battles to be won in their future. She barely noted that Dougie reached across to grab her mug before it fell to the ground, as her body slumped towards sleep and her eyes closed on the beckoning flames that slowly morphed into bronzed skin and bold, dark bands. Her mind held the image and carried it into her dreams.

Miles away James quietly watched as the white of daylight melted into evening shadows and the flames rose boldly against a black sky. The burning of wood marking the passage of time as he stared into the orange, dancing flames and set his mind adrift. The heat of the fire dancing upon his naked flesh, as though the flames coiled about him drawing him closer. His mind rendering them as long, curling tresses that covered his skin. The lick of the flames a welcome kiss that ignited a yearning in his soul. Long into the night he lay, staring into flames that bound him to remain until the glowing embers died, and the cold air blew over his lone form once more.

~

Several more days of weary travel finally brought them to the mighty river, which indeed flowed fast and furious and Hakan deemed it unsafe to cross. They set up their camp while he traveled alone further down the river bank to see if a more suitable crossing could be found. Though most were impatient to finish the journey, preferably in a very comfortable inn, they were also not of mind to complain about a good couple of days rest. She spent her time washing clothes in the river that were dry in no time at all under the blazing heat of the sun. She did look forward to any opportunity to seek out the herbs and plants that Hakan had told her to be watchful for, and so took to wandering behind the men as they went about their hunting. The easy flow of conversation between Robert and William, and how he showed care for the boy, slowly easing her anger towards the man. The look of surprise upon his face, quickly replaced with genuine gratitude, when she brought him a paste made from the herbs she had gathered and mixed with aloe vera for his injured shoulder. He accepted the peace offering with a smile and satisfied she wondered off towards the river before the sun began to set.

Standing at the river’s edge while the dying light played upon the rushing waters and the birds flew above, she breathed deep; the scent of wood smoke mingling with the fir and damp earth. A sharp call of a raven broke the silence and she turned towards the sound to spy the bird bursting from the grove of trees nearby and circling the sky above. Her eyes watched its flight and couldn’t help but think if James was somehow watching over her. If only one could cast their spirit out upon the wind to travel towards their hearts desire. Her eyes dropped back to the river bank and her breath caught in her throat to see a wolf had come to drink of the cool water. Its eyes resting warily upon her as they both stood transfixed by the other. She didn’t know if it was a good sign or bad omen; to see both a raven and a wolf and her practical nature made a mental note to ask Hakan about the odd pairing. For several minutes they stood locked in quiet study and it surprised her that she felt no fear. Just two lone souls seeking something to quench their spirit on this solemn evening. Until suddenly a howl broke the stillness and the wolf turned its head towards the sound, and with a last lingering look upon her, turned and ran back into the woods. The spell broken, her eyes now noticed the golden reflection upon the waters and with a trembled sigh, turned from the setting orb. Head bent and her gaze on her sand covered bare feet, Lorna began the slow walk back to camp, until another sound broke the solitude of the descending twilight. The familiar deep tone of his voice a bold shaft of light that burst through the cracks that were her loneliness.

“It would be a shame to miss such a beautiful sunset.”


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to keep the story to 40 chapters, but the story tells me when it’s over, no the other way around. So splitting the end into two chapters and eventually you’ll get an epilogue to catch up with these two: because letting go is hard y’all. 
> 
> Now let's get these two back together, yes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: feels, smut alert, nsfw, 18+

The woody fragrance of smoke reached them long before they spied any camp. James eyes lifted to follow the black grey wisps that twisted and curled among the tall pines. Another few skipped beats within his chest as hope began to rise and he strained forward in the saddle to search out the glow of fire in the distance. Urging his horse to a faster pace as he glimpsed a form on the edge of a copse of trees, appearing to be gathering wood. Realizing the shadow too small to be a man and too gangly thin to be a woman, but he spurred his mount towards the figure. Only a short distance away and the gallop of hooves alerted the boy and he raised wary eyes towards the oncoming dark figure approaching at a rapid space; the chest of both horse and man bathed in sweat and nostrils flaring. A moment’s panic and then recognition dawning, he dropped his bundle of gathered branches and rushed forward to meet the rider. James feet hit the ground just as Robert’s body ran full tilt into his own with a shouted _Mr. Delaney_ and nearly knocked him straight off his feet.

For a brief second James stood there, uncertain how to proceed as the boys arms wrapped tight about his waist. One arm steadying himself against the horse’s rib-cage, the other hanging awkwardly in the air, not knowing where to rest. Heartened, he ruffled the boys hair that had grown so long it lay in wisps over his eyes, as they raised to meet his own. A wide smile split Robert’s face and finally James put an arm around his side and pulled him in closer. For the first time it felt natural and right. His mind had been so preoccupied with another, but now he realized he had missed the boy too. They barely had time for more than a few exchange of words when the rest of James group arrived and the heartfelt greetings continued. Robert paused as he stepped back and looked to each face: James, Atticus, Cholmondeley, their guide…. and definitely one missing it seemed.

“But where is Mr. Godfrey sir?”

James put his hand on a shoulder that seemed a slightly higher height then when he last saw the boy, and shook his head sadly, but offered no reply.

“Where are the others Robert? Best we speak to everyone at once.”

“Just beyond them trees sir. Come on.” 

James and his band walked into the campsite, just as William and Dougie were serving up the evening meal. Something both Atticus and Cholmondeley gave most appreciative glances towards before greeting both men. James gaze wandered around the campsite, lighting on every space; seen or hidden. A frown upon his face that each space was found empty of his hearts one desire. William approached and his brows knitted in concern when he spied the bandage about his shoulder.

“Did you meet with trouble?”

William chuckled and rubbed the injury lightly. “Yeah mate, of the flaming haired wronged maiden sort.” James mouth twitched at the corners – he’d expected no less of her. “But I have the lad here to thank for this one.” He drew his finger across the small red line upon his neck, but he cast a wink in Robert’s direction, who merely shrugged and grunted.

A scowl broke the smile upon his face as James turned about, eyes still searching and impatience mounting - _where the hell was she?_ \- and then strode closer towards William. “Dammit William, did I not say to inform the lady about the plan before she tried to kill you?”

“Well I may have over-played my part, but you could have told me about her little knife.”

The two men shook hands briefly, before Robert was tugging upon his arm.

“Mr. Delaney, you should have seen Mrs. Delaney! Real mad she were at him. Waving that wicked blade right under his nose with his blood already dripping… it was something to see…”

James interrupted abruptly, “Yes, I’d very much like to see her, hhhmm?”

Robert grew quiet, a slender finger pointing towards where the sky was just beginning to show signs of sinking to its rest. “She’s at the river, but she’s always back at camp before sunset.”

His eyes narrowed even while his own memories of sunset couplings on sandy shores flashed behind his eyes, “And why’s that?”

He shrugged a shoulder, though his own eyes held sadness. “I don’t know sir, she just said they feel lonely.”

A lump formed in his throat as he squeezed the boys’ shoulder in passing, moving towards the path he had indicated. Feeling the weight of her sentimentality in his own heart, his steps quickened when his ears caught the sound of running water. She wouldn’t be lonely this sunset. Not any future ones’ either if he had any say in the matter. A raven’s call led his gaze upwards to where the bird circled high above and he adjusted his path in the direction of its flight. No surprise to find her standing just beneath its circling pattern and caught in the dying rays of the sun bursting all around her. 

~

The glowing orb still just high enough that dusk was only moments away. The water swirled about her calves and she bent a hand down to feel it glide over her fingertips. Her gaze was locked on something in front of her and his breath caught when he followed the line of sight to find a wolf, just mere feet away drinking of the cool water. The glow of its eyes rested upon her and James hand instinctively went to his knife. His breath held and his steps soundless as woman and beast remained locked in quiet study. It occurred to him it was unclear who was more wary of who, as the sunbeams shot through her curls waving in the light breeze setting them to flame. The low notes of her song carried over the rushing murmur of the river, and the wolf’s ears pitched forward as its head titled to the side. He knew not the words she sang, but the beast stood transfixed as though understanding passed between them. Then raising its head as the low howl broke from its throat – both of them lifting their cries to the sky. Surprised by his own stillness, though his feet itched to run to her, but he too is caught and bound in this ethereal moment. 

She bent down towards the waters and the wolf’s head lowered in unison; every muscle tensed within James as he watched their interactions. His heart hammering for fear, or amazement he wasn’t sure. That she should tame the wolf. She who also made no apology for her wildness. He could see the circling shadow of the raven’s trajectory upon the golden sand. The wolf and the raven: nature’s oddest pairing and he smiled that they should be witness to the moment of their reunion. The notes of her song slowly faded, turning to a heavy sadness as they drifted silent. He could wait no longer. The urge to hold her as the day closed all around them propelling his feet forward; as the raven called and the wolf seeing his presence turned and loped back into the woods. Her gaze cast out across the waters and he heard the sigh released as she started to turn away from the descending light. Though she was radiant cast within the bursting colours, he managed to find his voice.

“It would be a shame to miss such a beautiful sunset.”

Backlit by the burst of orange and pinks, she turned – hands flying to her mouth while her heart threatened to stop in her chest. James eyes raked over her entire form, finding her more slender than he remembered and he briefly worried she might be unwell. They rested on the flatness of her stomach and he was surprised by the flicker of disappointment that arose. Quickly followed by the almost violent urge to stake his claim there welling within. For a brief moment they booth stood unmoving, hardy believing that the long weeks endured had finally ended in this single moment upon the edge of the world. Her hands flew to her mouth, as though in prayer.

“James. Are you real?”

A single step and she halted.

“Why don’t you come over here and see for yourself?”

Another step forward and then all she knew was the wind in her hair and the solid thud of his chest as his own quick steps brought them full against one another. Locked in tight embrace, they staggered upon the sand until their feet submerged into the swirling surf. Clinging to his strong shoulders, her face buried in the sweat, salt scented folds of his thick neck, and he could feel the warm wetness that flowed freely. The whisper of a kiss upon the dark bands. The coolness flooding into his boots barely noticed when the warm press of her lips invaded his senses. Their lips merging and blending as if no time had passed at all. Just a passing shadow it was, and now they basked in the riot of colour and light that burst upon the shore. He longed to lay her down and make love to her as they once had on the golden sand, with the closing of the day sighing its own rapture. Far too soon, she pulled back in his arms.

“I should slap you James Keziah Delaney.”

The corners of his mouth twitched at her use of his full name. “I think I prefer kissing you Lorna Bow Delaney… my love.”

A choked sob escaped her when the words she had missed fell easily from his tongue once more. May she never take such things as the sound of her name safe on his lips for granted. His hands cupped her face and tears ran down over the dirt encrusted pads of his thumbs. He let each one fall untouched. A healing rain that washed away the lonely pain brought by weeks of separation. 

“I couldn’t lose you. It was the only way to keep you safe. You see that now, don’t you?”

With a gentle smile she held his head in her hands, head gently shaking. “James, am I here?” One hand lowered to rest upon his heart; felt its pounding tempo merge with her own. 

“You know you are love.”

Pulling his head to her own she kissed him softly than whispered upon his parted lips.

“Then you can’t lose me James. Not ever.”

He crushed her to his chest, lifting her feet off the ground, face buried in the curve of her neck. There was no hesitation between them; her eagerness to reclaim him a wanton thing upon these sandy shores. He felt his desire mounting as though time and distance had been but a brief road stop between the two of them. His mouth slanted across her own, hands dug into her hips pulling her up against him. Felt the pounding of her heart against his own. He sought her gaze and saw the same passion within those warm brown eyes that held his own, as the last time they had coupled; and he knew he would forever be enthralled by her. He whispered between ravished kisses upon her tender mouth.

“I saw your signs.”

_I shall not hinder your advances._

She all but melted into him – his mouth, his body molded around her own while the rushing water blessed their merging. His own breathing labored she held him so tight and threaded fingers into tugging threads of his hair while she kissed him so soundly his knees threatened to buckle. He bent lower and lifted her full against him, groaning deep into her mouth, then pulling away.

“Did you not once say you were owed a lifetime of kisses and running around naked in the woods, making love on beaches?”

Her smile flashed at him, crooked and perfect and his heart burst with all the love he carried inside.

Her head bent to drop a kiss on his naked chest, beside the scar, as her finger traced the outline of the closest tattoo. “Are you promising such a wild life Mr. Delaney? What if I wish to build a rather respectable and refined reputation in this new world?” 

James reached up a hand towards her head, while a grin split his face, “You have sand on your cheeks and twigs in your hair Mrs. Respectable.” His hands reached down to lift the soiled, wet hem of her gown, warm fingers trailing along the cool skin beneath. “And I see you still have a penchant for wading in rivers.” 

A hand lifted and he traced his finger down the laugh line, still surprised he could have missed a simple thing so much. Lorna leaned back and pulled him down to her; his own form automatically adjusting to fit around all her curves. Fusing like it had never forgotten the feel of her. Felt her body tremble as though it too cried for the lost time they could not reclaim. His mouth nuzzled upon the curve of her breasts, and then trailed kisses growing more urgent upon the soft curve of her throat. Reaching up to claim her mouth and his need groaned deep within. 

“Madam I cannot wait another moment to have you.”

“I missed you James.” 

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and he lightly brushed it with his finger. She breathed a breathless James! when he easily lifted her high and tossed her over a bare shoulder. Boldly marching across the sands to the privacy of the trees that grew along the riverbank. Her head twisted around and he grunted a wince as she lightly smacked his backside; his grin wicked when he felt the subtle squeeze upon a cheek.

“James, we can’t… not here.”

Her tone more a question than a refusal, that was further proved by the light nip felt upon his ear lobe and the soft giggle that followed. Growling as he reached the shade of the trees and lowered her to the soft earth, his face a mask of desperate need and eyes burning straight to her core. His body already covering her own, the dampness of their clothing clinging about their tangled limbs

“Oh yes we can my love, and I will.”

Her hands were already pressing upon the warm flesh of his back to pull him closer. The trail of her fingernails awakening every nerve and he thought he’d die if he didn’t make love to her right now. As always, she was perfectly in synch with him, and he felt her fingers already tugging at his pants. His fingers reached down and grasped the bottom of her dress, lifting it to her hips, while he shifted down her body, the stubble of his chin dragging along the sensitive skin and he felt her arch beneath him. The soft moan from her throat lost in the wind and the trees as his lips breathed life into every cell once again; skimming over her flesh in a frenzied rush to touch every part of her. Hardly daring to believe she was not just some enchanted part of an almost forgotten dream. He couldn’t wait to be inside her again. To feel her lose herself as she moved beneath him. His hands were hot and dirty upon the delicate flesh of her sex, but she opened to his touch with a sharp inhale of breath. Hips already raised seeking the fulfillment only he gave. He raised himself back up her body, trailing kisses and moaning her name until he reached her mouth once again. Claimed her waiting lips and his hard cock pressed upon her warm centre, already wet with her own need. She lay a hand to the side of his face and he stilled himself and met her eyes. His hands coming to rest upon the sun kissed cheeks now flushed with desire, then brushing back the damp, curling tendrils gently. They breathed deep and in unison expelled.

“I love you.”

He had discovered more than just the secret to unlocking his own mind along this journey. Acceptance and forgiveness were just a few of the road stops along the way; and he was never more aware that allowing her to fly alongside him, had lead him to the discovery of her too. An unbound spirit and unfettered soul, and not a mere object desired and molded by his own needy nature. A useful companion that served his desires; but left them both rooted in loneliness for the emptiness that would be found there. She was so much more and he knew now what a privilege it had been to be witness to her own self growth. Gazing into those warm brown eyes that held all the swirling colours of the wild night surrounding them, he knew her heart and soul as well as he knew his own. She was the missing piece that fought like him, held on when it seemed there was nothing left to cling to, and fiercely loved like him. Her words, her deeds, the feel of her body restoring him – all of it unconditional and worth more than its combined sum. They were separate, and one. 

When he slowly eased his passion inside her welcoming warmth, he knew without a doubt this this connection would never be severed. Her eyes reflecting the truth of their souls forever merging back to him as he moved upon her soft form. Loving her slow and deep in these woods that once had been so forlorn. He still had scars, but it was the flame in her fingertips that danced upon him that he carried forward. A starburst of light in the darkening dusk. The spark that would always lead them back to one another, no matter what time or distance may bring. James linked his fingers into Lorna’s hand and caressed his hips upon her own, drawing a gasp of pleasure from parted lips. The gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore mingled with her sighs and he caught the rhythm and swept them along with the pulsing tide. Her hand gripped his own in a crushing vice and the intensity of her coming climax shone in her eyes, now caught in the rising moonlight. He wanted it to last forever but he was desperate to find the release only she brought him. His pace quickening and guttural grunts tore from his throat as the heat coiled and surged through him. 

With a strangled groan he pulled her into his lap and her legs twined bout him tight. Fingers gripped the ripe flesh of her buttocks and rocked her upon the pulsing shaft rooted deep. Only breaking free to tear her dress over her head so he could feel her whole naked length moving upon him. Her arms clasped tightly about his neck and her hips rolling in his vice like grip. James pressed his hands over the slender curve of her back, pulling her even closer as his mouth found hers, joining the last part of themselves in breathless surrender to ride the highs of their shared passion. He felt the sudden arch and catch of breath as her climax began to roll over her in waves and she moved to pull away. One hand thread through the long curls to hold her fast to the kiss while her body gave over to the crash within. The soft whimper rising from within and he moaned deep as his end swept upon him. Pumping the seeds of his love deep with a desperation he knew was born of the desire to see something come to fruition. To let all know she was his and his alone. 

This intoxication found in coupling fevered kisses with thrusting loins a sensation he’d never known; not releasing either until they came softly down on the other side. Their bodies still, but mouths still ghosting in soft caresses. Finally breaking and Lorna lay her head upon his shoulder with a trembled sigh. One light kiss pressed upon the bronzed skin. His hands roamed everywhere; light traces down her back, and then tangling in her hair as he held her close. Savouring these moments alone, while the voices from their camp now drifted down upon the night breeze that cooled their skin. It seemed like an eternity had passed of holding one another close until James leaned back and searched her eyes with a questioning look. Her smile came easily and he loved the choice seen in her gaze: already made before he even posed the question. She unwound her legs, placing a quick kiss before reaching for her dress and pulling it over her head as she rose. Placing another kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll get some wood for our fire.”

His eyes followed her shadow among the whispering pines, unable to tear away. Beautiful and wild and moving easily within this natural space as though one borne. His to hold and love through the night while the wolves howled, the fire blazed and the stars gazed down upon them. He couldn’t have hoped for a more perfect reunion than being here with her among the scents and sounds of Mother Earth. Of reaching for one another by the glow of firelight and holding one another close by its warmth.

On the morrow the journey would continue.

Now that he was with her again, the only thing he desired more than her, was to get them home. And home was still a long way off. 

James smiled as he arranged some loose rocks to form the fire pit. At least there would be a few more nights by a fire to enjoy along the way. He glanced up to see her returning with a bundle of wood, her smile wide and his heart did that little flip once again. The glow on her face drawing his eyes and he felt a swell within his own self; instinct revealing he was the reason for this brilliance upon her person. Suddenly hit with a feeling that nearly stole the breath from his body as he put a name to this formerly unknown surge of emotion. She was happy.

Even more startling, so was he.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end.. beautiful friends....
> 
> I can’t believe the end is nigh. It’s been a long creative journey and it’s a long chapter that brings its’ close. So sorry, but I couldn’t help it - it’s so hard to leave these two. So much to say…. but I’ve been writing since the show finale and it’s time to say Good-bye.
> 
> Although, good-bye doesn’t mean it has to be the end. 
> 
> A huge thanks to everyone who read faithfully and especially to those who left wonderful and encouraging comments. You’re the angels of the fiction world and I so appreciate being blessed by your words also. 
> 
> Now, to the end…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none, except a weeping fic writer that needs a hug

Shimmering rays of dawn slowly filtered over the placid waters. Trailing golden fingers over the soft sands and leaf strewn carpet of the woods until it cast a glowing warmth upon the entwined forms. The flames of the fire burnt low to embers that smoldered, now sparked to life when the air caressed. Flaming strokes breathing light and fire over teasing flesh that merged hard lines to soft curves; while breathless kisses expelled into the morning air land upon the dew drenched leaves. The beauty of the morning born only eclipsed by the glow of bodies that had reached for one another once more. Desire unleashed and love wholly given and sublimely met within their shrouded bower. Fingers, lips and loins stroking sighs from one another, as the long aching weeks of separation were driven back by the urgency that held them in its amorous grip. The rising orb shyly peeking over the horizon, the mountains, and each blade of grass so as to not disturb the radiant beauty of their union. 

Just one brief hour ago all the world lay in darkness absolute. Still and dark as the raven’s feathers. Trees but mere silhouettes in the rising silvery mist of the eternal shores. A musical silence in this breaking of a new day. Now these ancient messengers hopped from their branch perches and sending their call forth, raised the shadowed curtain of dawn. Light burst, lovers breathed in synch; fleeting moments to be savoured and not squandered away. The new day a gift to be unwrapped slowly, the rhythm of the earth tuning each languid caress to its frequency. Within each ray of light that touched the earth and bathed them anew; new possibilities emerged and hope was once again restored. Their souls embraced the melody as tightly as they held onto to each other.

~

One slender hand wiped the tears from her dampened cheeks as she raised her head from his strong chest. With lingering awkwardness he sat rigid before the group gathered around the fire, while her grief over Godfrey was spent. One hand lightly rested upon her lower back as she wept, but when those shining, watery brown eyes lifted to his own, he pulled her close and kissed her brow, before setting her away once more. Sensing the stares of the others who had already been granted their moments to mourn, Lorna quickly turned her gaze back to the fire, but felt the warm pressure of James hand still resting upon her lower back. Another lost to the venture of coming to oneself. Whether the reward fit his crimes, she did not know, so turned her mind to other matters while the men discussed their impending departure. They only awaited the return of the two guides to make a final decision as to when … and where along the river they would cross. With a heavy sigh she sat her cup upon the warmed stone and rising, brushing her skirts of ash as she crossed to a pile of clothing needing laundered. James eyes, sparking with new life, followed every step until assured she was herself once more, returned to the conversation. His eyes only flicking again to follow her progress down the path to the river until her form passed from sight. A slight nod of his head and Robert left the fire without question.

The two were sat conversing upon the sandy shore, surrounded by drying clothing draped over large stones, driftwood and whatever else was useful. A low rumble upon the earth felt in their bare feet and their eyes cast to the sky when a pair of ravens came squawking loudly from the direction of their camp. Mere seconds behind the bold image of James astride his galloping steed cresting over the hill, and Lorna could see the furrowed brow and menacing look from the water’s edge. Instinct told her the cause – or maybe she too heard the ravens warning – and fear settled in her gut like the stones at the bottom of the cold river. She immediately rose and gathered the still damp clothing; heaving it all into the boys’ arms.

“The wagons will follow… go now.”

Ignoring his questioning look, she gave a gentle shove towards the wider path down the riverbank, and then came forward to stand directly in the charging horses’ path. One arm casually raised and her eyes holding his fierce stare. The painful tug that lifted her up, while horse and rider barely paused, and soon she was settled against his strong back with arms holding tight about his waist. His deep voice flying back on the wind.

“They’ve come…”

“I know, I saw the ravens.”

James spared a moment to look over his shoulder, a critical and surprised eye turned towards her, but her gaze was focused on the wagons which had now appeared. His horse pulled up short to briefly confer with the other riders, ensuring Robert safely sat behind William, and then they were moving in a cloud of thrown sand down the riverbank. She had caught only that they had a mere hour to increase the distance between whoever followed; all else was lost in the noise of squeaking wheels and hooves pounding upon the earth. As she clung to James solid form and blinked the sand from her eyes, she wondered if it be Company or Crown that had followed him across unknown paths. Out of the corner of her eye, the river flowed swiftly along and the more pressing thought of where to breach its churning waters arose. After some time at this relentless pace, it was necessary to allow the animals a slower gait and William maneuvered his mount along James own while they spoke in hushed tones. Another few miles passed and they stopped to rest the mounts, eyes often peering back the way they had come. Lorna slid down from the horse, legs and backside numb, while James lent a steadying arm until her feet once more touched solid earth. 

“It would be best if you did not wander too far.”

She quietly nodded and then slowly proceeded towards a secluded spot to address pressing needs. Each person taking the time to see to their own, and then gathering once more to take refreshments and discuss their next steps. James led his horse to the water and rested on the long curve of its neck while it drank deeply from the river. His eyes searching out over the water’s to judge the depth. Beside him William did the same and their gazes meet in worried exchange. 

“We had a head start, but they travel lighter.”

James nodded quietly, eyes scanning the trees for a glimpse of red. 

“If they stop to camp the night at the river, it might buy us another day or two. If they spy our tracks, they will be sure to follow swiftly.” William’s eyes followed James line of vision towards the trees, knowing whom he sought. “If only we could find a crossing dammit, my mind would find ease. As I’m sure yours would also?”

James eyes slid back to William, but he only received a grunted reply. Behind them they could hear the wheezing breath of Atticus as he approached. William turned towards the sailor hoping for a better exchange of converse, when suddenly his eyes caught the movement coming from the line of the trees. He quickly turned to James and noted his own gaze fixed on the strange occurrence. Briefly wondering why the man made no movement. _Was he careless as ever?_ His breath sucked in and taking a step forward as his hand moved to the gun on his hip, but James own hand halted his progress.

“Mauh.”

He turned unbelieving. “Are you mad James? She will be mauled, if not outright killed by the beast!”

James didn’t even spare him a glance, the twisted curve of a smile upon his face. “No, she won’t.”

William was just about to question further, when above two dark shadows passed; their loud caws breaking the silence. Ahead the wolf’s ears perked up and its head turned skyward, yellow eyes leaving the woman for the briefest moment. Lorna stood still and quiet mere feet from the river’s edge, waiting and watching for any sign. Head slightly turned as she felt the weight of James gaze upon her from where he stood as though transfixed. The subtle nod of encouragement and she thought _my god we’ve both gone mad._ The two ravens landed upon the sodden bark of a fallen limb; heads bobbing as they waited with beaded, black eyes moving from the woman to the wolf. The wolf turned its gaze to her once more, moving slowly, and with breath held she didn’t falter as it rested a furred head beneath her hand, and then trotted up the riverbank. Pausing once with a look over its silvered haunches to ensure she followed. Follow she did; hardly daring to breathe. Down the shore James watched until she disappeared around a bend, and when the ravens once more took flight, mounted his horse once more. 

They found the odd pair some distance ahead, where the rushing river gave way to a gentler flow and large rocks could be viewed just beneath the shining surface. The sun shone down on flaming curls and silver-black fur, as the pair stood upon the shoreline. Sandy beach had given way to pebbled ground and the horses gingerly picked their way forward. Without bothering to raise her skirts, Lorna took one step into the clear river; the bottom easily viewed so close to shore. Once to her knees, her steps became unsure as all was lost to the swirling motion of water and debris further out into the stream. Beneath her fingers the soft fur arrived as a reassuring presence and the wolf swam swiftly forward, paddling fiercely until its feet gained solid ground. It turned in the shallow depths, eyes resting upon her until once more she stepped forward and made her tentative way to its side. Together they gained drier footing and she stooped to wring the water from her heavy skirts. Raising once more to find the wolf staring back across the river where James horse took its own first steps into the waters. 

The horse pranced and tore the bit, sensing the presence of something wild nearby and James chuckled briefly wondering if it was the wolf, or Lorna that had caused the stirring. A few hushed words in Twi and his steed settled into the crossing. Meeting his gaze, Lorna felt the soft fur leaving her fingertips and turned to watch the wolf gallop into the birch and evergreen; its lone cry subdued in the depths of the forest. Turning back just in time to see James exiting the saddle and striding forward. He pulled her into his arms, letting the tangles of her hair that that had been loosened tease upon his arms. Beheld the light of awe and wonder still in her gaze; the faint blush of excitement upon her cheeks, and decided wild was her best colour. And that he should get to see her thus. Placing a breathless kiss upon her lips while she wondered at the lack of worry in his eyes. His voice deep and low upon her flushed skin.

“Here you thought to tame the tiger, and instead have caught the wolf to your hand.”

She smiled softly beneath the light pressure of his lips. 

“Perhaps I just discovered a secret.”

He nuzzled into her hair, “Hmmm, and what is this secret?

“That in loving a wild thing, you cannot tame it; you simply allow it the duality of its nature: both graceful and feral.”

His lips trailed across her own as he pulled her closer and molded her pelvis to his own. “And what is like to be loved by a wild thing?” She swore his eyes turned a muted amber in the shaded glade.

She grew still in his arms. Meeting his kiss, but remaining quiet when he drew back to search her gaze. Eyes narrowed, and she could sense his frustration that he could not discern her thoughts. She smiled lightly. Some secrets a woman holds in the depths of her heart; hers alone to cherish. She cast a coy glance as she stepped from his arms, turning to face the late arrivals now stood upon the far bank.

“You first James.”

Frustrated, aroused and immensely amused, he smiled at her retreating back, before coming to join her at the water’s edge. His gaze burned upon her skin and his thoughts came to her as easily as ever. _I will show you my love._ Above the skies darkened and it took no magic to know that all present gave up a silent prayer for the rains to fall… and the river to swell once again. 

**2 Months Later**

The waters lapped against the edge of the boat. A natural rhythm that lulled her into a sense of peace after the hectic pace of the preceding weeks. Long days upon the trail that had tested the very limits of their endurance as dust gave way to mountains and valleys. Barely resting so that the distance between them and whoever followed grew with each passing day. Nights by the warmth of a blazing fire and wrapped in James arms the few moments of calm and bliss, but now a distant memory. Breathing deep, she remembered the day the air changed. The sweetness of flowered meadows giving way to that slight tang of salt on parched lips. Then the busy Port Diego stretched before them, beckoning and promising rest for their weariness. Instead the few days that followed were more tedious and rushed chores; unpacking supplies, washing the dust of the trail from their clothing and belongings, and repacking it all in three trunks for the journey north. She glanced behind her to see the Port fading in the distance. The bittersweet farewell of a damned league that had over time, distance and trials, become a family. The goodbyes too rushed for her sentimental heart, and she knew a tiny piece of her heart lingered with those who remained behind. So it came down to three. Another kind of family. More waters to cross. And somewhere on the watery horizon, a home. One hand dropped to briefly linger upon her stomach, the soft curve of a smile barely contained. A future.

~

Weeks had passed with little more than eating, wandering the decks, eating again, and sleeping to pass the time. The lack of anything useful to do chafing at the elder Delaney’s nerves. James so used to being in command especially feeling the constraints of having little control over the sailing of the ship. Though he sought the captain so frequently the man approached Mrs. Delaney with a subtle warning to find a way to “keep her husband entertained.” Lorna’s sea sickness had returned and his eyes never left her while she struggled those first few weeks to maintain her composure even as her skin paled, then turned sickly gray. A tiredness drove her to seek their bunk frequently during the day, and during the night she slept as though one who had already passed. The worry lined his face as it seemed to grow worse and he considered summoning the ships doctor, when one morning she arrived late to breakfast, smiling and glowing while she heaped her plate high with the tempting fare. He marveled once more at her ability to overcome anything that set in her path. Across the table she reached forth and squeezed his hand and for one brief moment she was closed to him again. He peered into the warm brown depths, head slanted as he glanced at her sly smile and though the idea struck him, he let it lie. She would come to him when she was ready. 

The boy, who now snored softly within his bunk, never seemed to be at loss for something to entertain. For every sight was still new to him. Some days they felt his enthusiasm and with amused smiles joined him in whatever adventure he sought. Other times taking turns in dealing with his energy that seemingly had no bounds. James muttering under his breath more than a few times if this was how he had been as a boy and she heard Brace’s name uttered with a pained look. His father’s name never mentioned and she knew work was yet before him. In those quieter times, James continued lessons on all things nautical, while Lorna pulled the boy into the confines of the cabin to continue the lessons that had lapsed upon the journey West. Thus, the thread that had weaved its gentle way around James and Lorna, now stretched and knotted to pull the boy closer within their circle. 

Pondering all these things, James lay quiet in the dark, sensing her state of sleep beside him. Though his arousal pressed firm upon a slender thigh, the inclusion of the boy in their cabin made sating that desire impossible. A restlessness coursed along every vein. He could wander the ship again. Seek out the night watch, though he sensed the crew’s growing impatience with his interference. His eyes finally settled on the pale curve of her breast. Thoughts wandering as his mouth went dry. Maybe pull her into a shadowed corner and take her with a fevered pace before they were discovered. Anything to cure this unease and impatience that grew within each day as they drew closer to Nootka. He grimaced slightly as she stirred beside him. Ashamed to have thought of using her so, until her eyes flew open and his name breathed from her lips. _Yes James._ He groaned deep and pulled her to him. _Come love._ She grasped his hand and followed him; silent and willing into the shadows.

**One Week Later**

The lushness of the scene spread before them took her breath away. Never had she lay eyes on such untamed beauty. The sheer unspoiled quality of the land; vast and sweeping in broad strokes of various tones immediately dispelled any lingering doubts or anxieties regarding this adventure she had braved. The sound of distant drumming a staccato beat with the adrenaline that coursed through her body and set her heart pounding. They were here. Nootka lay before them and this first glimpse taken hand in hand upon the worn planks of a roughly fashioned dock, confirmed that every moment had been worth the fighting. Glancing at James, who stood with jaw clenched and eyes glued forward, she couldn’t help but think it perfectly suited to his own untamed Nature. A squeeze of her hand and a nod to the left turned her gaze to find Robert, already surrounded by Native children who gazed at him with curious eyes. The boy stood wide eyed, head turned to catch James gaze. The nod of encouragement coaxing forth a small smile and he turned back to the children. They saw each other’s colour, but blind to prejudice as it had not been taught here, they beckoned him towards a small bonfire that blazed in the centre of the village. Lorna heard his intake of breath beside her. The lips that trembled than compressed as he watched the boy moving through the steps of a dance patiently instructed. Small steps. Little changes. A new future unfolds in their innocent smiles. He pulled her closer into his arms as they watched; trunks and belongings forgotten at their feet. Pressed so close, she could feel the trembling inside. Knew the damn would burst when solitude enveloped them in its gentle cocoon.

For now she leaned her strength to his own. This man who held himself so still, so quiet, that he appeared an empty vessel. Like a lake that reflected the sky as it lay calm, but seemingly a thing unmoved. Dead beneath its shining surface. The wise, or those who cared to look, knew the tides still flowed and surged beneath. Taking the chance to dive beneath his stoic reserves, she had discovered a well of feeling lay beneath. Just waiting to be poured out upon the right soul. Like now, his silence could still be a frustrating thing. His brooding want to return when life didn’t go according to his plans. Every day he let those waters loose to flow a little more – the dam he had built within himself tumbling piece by piece. For now the box had been opened, and though the tiger still roared to others, it was a little more tamed to her hand. Though not completely, as that was never a goal she sought. Same as he allowed her own nature to soar along side his own.

She smiled thinking how far they had come. Those first anxious steps taken in a crowded courtroom with his eyes piercing her still and her heart hammering in her chest. The ease of banter that had evolved to something deeper. He a little more open and less wild; she a little more wild but holding a few secrets of her own. One could wait, the other must not. His love a steady force beneath her own tentative steps into this new world. They would always catch one another, this she knew. His light squeeze and whispered kiss suggesting he'd read her mind and heartily agreed. She held no worry now; not with his arms holding so close she could feel his warmth seeping into her own skin. He smiled down upon her and then with a nod, lifted his eyes to the sky. Finding those eternal guides. Hung here in a different place in the sky, but holding on just as they had done for a million years. Time moved much like that calm river; slowly, and emptying its sands upon the shores of each life. Each grain a measured passage of things lost and learned. Together these two hearts once lost, were learning love a little more each day. Falling deeper into one another and catching one another when madness threatened the fall. They left the past behind them, never forgetting the lessons learned; their heads both turned to what lay ahead. Knowing both fate and future bound to the other, but resting in the hope that had carried them across endless waters to claim a legacy; and a promise of home. Their eyes met briefly - the flicker fired beneath the starry eyes.

_Tell me one thing that is not just a matter of time._

Holding close and holding on, knowing everything was just a matter of time.

The smile in his eyes telling her; they had lots of time.

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh..... did you sense someone had a little secret yet to be revealed??
> 
> Well clever ones, you'll have to wait for the Epilogue. And remember, in this taboo world, it's never quite what you think. 
> 
> See you soon lovely readers. xx


	42. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and new resolves. And a confession long overdue....
> 
> Warnings: words ensue; letting go is hard y’all. But this is the end my friends.

The lone haunting howl echoed across the darkly lit grassy plain of the village settlement. Shivers ran along several spines though the heat of the bonfire stretched its fiery fingers among those huddled close. The League had gathered once more; or at least those who still remained of James’ band of misfits. Atticus and Cholmondeley were passing a bottle back and forth between them while recounting tales of their time left behind in Port Diego. The others alternately amused, and at times aghast at the trouble the two had gotten up too while they lingered waiting for the ship carrying the gunpowder to reach port. French Bill leaned against a log, quiet as ever; with a very content and newly betrothed Pearle resting against his shoulder. The tediousness and oft peril that marked their own journey slowing easing from their faces. James half listened to the easy banter between the men, eyes flicking from face to face, while taking note of those absent. The loss of Godfrey a wound that still smarted when he thought of his own lack of foresight in the matter. The loss of William back to the East Coast to attend family business an ache he was not expecting. He had never quite learned the value of friendship until now.

His gaze flickered to Lorna, snuggled close to Robert with the glow of flame dancing brightly on her cheeks. Her happiness at having this odd little family reunited visible among the other shadow that had cast its own glow upon her face of late. His brow furrowed briefly as his gaze lingered; willing her to meet his eyes; but instead only saw the bright dancing oranges and reds reflected back to him. In two days’ time he would be a married man. That is, married by tribal standards – he doubted the Church of England would consider him legally bound after the ceremony. Thinking back on their weeks of settling into this new life – filled with highs and lows; but always an adventure they eagerly sought. Now she was quiet again tonight. Eyes downcast and her mouth twitching back and forth between the hint of smile, and the worrisome biting of her lower lip. Her thoughts once more closed to him, but though it gnawed, he rested secure in the knowledge she would unburden whatever worry she carried eventually. 

A bright flash as her eyes finally raised and met his own across the flame. Snapping and glowing like the sparks that danced above in the cool night air. A heat that coiled and twisted about them; this hunger that devoured all the space between them. He wanted her as badly now as he had so many months ago. Except now he was almost brazen in the showing of his desire. His eyes burned hotter than any flame and called her to him, but the crooked smile softly flashed, while the wolf once more sent out its lonely cry. She turned her gaze towards the deep dark of the nearby forest, listening to its song. The breath rising rapidly in her chest and when she briefly returned to him, he could see the shining wetness she held back. Eyes narrowed, he made to move closer for a word, but she quickly excused herself and as though dazed left the fire circle. He had known the cries would draw her forth and felt no fear. Still marveling at her connection to the creature that had left its wild ways and came almost docile to their back porch some evenings to sit still as a statue while she sipped her evening tea. A few scraps of venison had earned a wagging tail response and he no longer felt it a strange occurrence to find his lover’s hands in the soft furred underbelly upon coming to join her. The wolf accepted his presence as her mate, though never came to his own hand. Only the slightest lowering of head to acknowledge his alpha status before loping back to disappear within the line of trees. 

The haunting cries echoed over the nearby mountains drawing her closer to the edge of the wood where glowing eyes reflected the moonlight. Even in the darkness Lorna could see its silhouette framed among the evergreens that stood sentinel at the forest edge. The secrets of the past locked within in circular patterns that once cut would reveal their history. Her breath seen in short airy gasps as she crossed the plain, no longer pounding of heart or trembling of limbs in its feral presence. She accepted her guide, a little part of her bending to James mystical ways, and she inwardly guessed the reason for its appearance tonight. Two creatures separated from their pack and standing at the edge of darkness; but the strength of the pack still holding at a distance. Always the delicate balance of a call to freedom versus the innate need for the love of family. Its eyes penetrated the black void of both physical and spiritual realm. A bright and probing reminder to search within, find your footing and right the balance. She had the strength within to push back the darkness that was stealing her Spirit. Only an unfettered soul could move forward and she owed him as much before their futures became ever more bound. She drew a shaky breath and silently nodded her understanding. Like those trees gnarled and bent by the force of wind, she too had been twisted and shaped by the force of holding the secrets of her past within. A backward glance revealed the fire silhouettes, their laughter and love echoing about her and blending with the distant cries of the pack, and she knew in her heart they were a forest that would stand strong and firm as her shield from any gale unleashed. It was time for a cutting. To uproot those carefully tended secrets, and be laid bare before him as never before.

~

James felt her presence had left their bed before he fully awoke. The loss of the weight beneath his outstretched arm pulling him from slumber. Her soft tread upon the planks of the porch that crossed the entire back of the cabin, and the rhythmic creaking of the rocker that followed. For many nights he had held her close, unknown to her, while she restlessly tossed and mumbled. Many times wanting to her wake her roughly and demand this burden she carried to be out. His own passage through the darkened cabin silent; he came to stand before her quietly rocking. Veiled eyes lifted to the starry expanse. Until they came to rest upon his own inquiring gaze – and the sad emptiness he found there cut him to the quick. 

“You are not sleeping. You barely eat.” He gave a wry smile to ease the moment. “You’ve not even commented on my muddy boots on your floors of late.”

She offered her own sarcastic quip in reply. “Perhaps I know a lost cause when it’s presented?”

James pulled the other chair across the deck, the scraping of its legs a sharp rent in the quiet. He settled his frame and faced her in the manner she knew there would be no escaping, until he’d pulled the mystery of her behavior forth. Gazes locked in silent battle of wills while the crickets hummed in the background.

“Madam, I will have this out.” He reached for a hand, the chill surprising him. “Tonight.”

He knew she wouldn’t avert her gaze – she never did. Always meeting him in the middle and no matter what plagued her, that iron strength still held its grasp even through blurry eyes.

“I love you James. I’ll not ever regret a single moment.”

His heart skipped and he squeezed her hand, the other reaching to pull her chair closer. “I would like you to tell me what I don’t already know, hmm?” 

Her thick swallow twisted his heart in vise. That she would think anything could set him away from her. “Do you think after all I’ve revealed? This wretched soul I carry… that there is anything you could not also tell me?

“If you thought I didn’t love you…”

“And why would I think that Lorna?”

“Sarah.” It was a quiet squeak, barely audible - and yet she caught the lack of surprise upon his face.

“Hhhmm.”

Her head canted to the side. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He held a finger up between them, eyes refusing to let her look away. “Tell me about the fire. Sarah Jane MacGuire.”

Her own surprise a brief flicker; of course he knew. James would never have sailed with her until he had determined all there was to know about the woman his father married. That Lorna Bow Delaney had her own reasons to hide among the false faces that surrounded her. Lost in the crowds and hidden in plain sight upon the stage. But not before the intuitive powers of the Devil Delaney. Resistance futile when she knew his probing stare and pointed questions would easily pull the truth forth. 

“How did you know?”

“Did you set the fire that night?”

“Yes. Your turn?”

James leaned back in the chair, a long finger resting upon his temple. “It was not only your likeness and a play program hidden within a drawer, but an article regarding the fire that burned down an orphanage many years prior.” Hid hands spread wide between them. “You confirmed your presence there while we were sailing. The missing link to who and why.”

The crooked smile flashed in the moonlight, and her laugh was a bitter bark. “You’re forgetting one detail James.”

James waved a hand in dismissal through the air. “Mmm, well yes there is the death of one Dr. Robert McColl.”

Her breath hitched deep at the mention of the name, face immediately paling and James suddenly understood the whole of how she knew a memory – even one of a name – could torture a soul for an eternity. That events from long ago had a way of following a person; no matter how great the distance you created, or your circumstances were altered. And just how much one person’s evil nature could shape another.

“It’s my fault. I killed him.”

A grunt in the dark, another wave of hand. “Technically it was fire that killed him.”

“Which I set.” Her voice broke for the first time and James sensed the pending breakdown. “I was always as damned as the others. And you knew it, but you still gave me a choice. Why?”

His head shook gently. “No. No. Not damned. A child predator? A man who beat, tortured and abused children? No, I think you not damned my love.”

Her head shook back and forth, “But it was still my hand. Though I didn’t mean to kill anyone… we just needed a distraction so we could escape. All of us.”

His head nodded in turn. “Yes and you did. You saved all of them Lorna. Sarah. You think a name matters to me? You gave them all a chance to be free from their cages.” He paused, let the parallel sink in her astute mind. “And you think I would not understand… one evil man’s life in the bargain?”

Her head snapped up and voice raised, lips trembling. “The bargain will be steep James if the Company or the Crown should learn the real identity of one Lorna Bow Delaney. They will come here, you know this. And when they discover me here….” The tears began their slow descent and he could see her body start to tremble. Her arms wrapping about herself tight to protect from the uncertain and possibly dangerous future. “They will use it against you. Use me, again.” 

He pulled her close to cease the retreat within and together face this moment of truth. “Yes, they will come. And they will find you here. If they haven’t connected you to her as yet, they are not likely to now. And they will not be looking for a Sarah MacGuire.”

She searched his gaze. “No?”

James head shook with certainty. “No.”

“And why is that James? Another part of you plan?”

“Muah.” He pulled back, a flash of a smile. “William turned out to be most useful, don’t you think?”

He felt her stiffen in his arms, her mixed feelings regarding her old friend still a pain that had not quite subsided. Her brow arched, waiting.

“In exchange for my willingness to allow his assistance, and the no small matter of the rough treatment he would deliver upon your person, I had him write a letter of his own. Even prodigal William is aware the benefits of a wealthy father and a respected name towards securing a successful future. A confession of all deeds to his father a necessary step to reclaiming his title. His repentance will appear most heartfelt and genuine. A return to his home, and to his title a celebrated victory for the eternal value of goodness and righteousness that flows in his blue blooded veins.” James snorted aloud. “And I may have insisted he add a part about one Sarah Jane MacGuire perishing in the sinking of that pirate ship. A loss that will invoke little mourning or concern, but the truth will travel among the gossip of London be assured my love.”

For a moment she was stunned into silence at what he had done for her. These two men forever clashing over their desire to both protect and possess her. Yet they had somehow managed to work together and ensure her safe future. The way love moved like a quiet, yet mighty stream capable of clearing the path forward, momentarily stealing her breath. Until with a mild gloating she thought of William’s future.

“So William is to be a proper gentleman settled in a proper Estate with likely a very proper wife who would never set fires, or shoot at the King’s men.” A smile reached her eyes for the first time. “Or seal her fate to a devils whim. I would not have thought him suitable after so much wanderlust.”

James chuckled, averted his gaze for the first time. Lorna noted the smugness even in the darkness and leaned back with a sigh.

“You still have a use for him.” It was not a question.

“Hmmm.” His fingers ran along his beard, hiding the smirk of satisfaction. “Oh I still think William at heart is not to a manor borne, hhmm? Wandering does seem better suited to his nature, don’t you think?” He cast a knowing gaze. “I think we have not likely seen the last of Sir William Andrew Johnston, or his pirating ways.”

“You mean to continue trade with his family then?”

“Hmmm.”

The topic was closed for now and a few moments of silence lingered between them. James fingers wrapped around her own, the gentle squeeze telling her all was right between them. Still she needed to say the words.

“I did want to come to America to escape my past James. That was the arrangement I made with your father. But I could have found my own way – you know that don’t you? I didn’t have to choose you.”

He pulled her onto his lap, lips seeking her own in a heated kiss that promised the night was far from over. “Now you know why I wanted you to have the choice hmm?” She murmured against the caress of his mouth. “And have I told you lately how glad I am that you were strong and sure enough to make that choice?”

Any response she had was lost in the merge of mouths and the feel of his hands roaming freely. Until they came to settle about her waist and he gently set her away from him. Breaking the kiss with a soft groan. She felt the movement about her waist, a soft stroke while his gaze probed her deeper still. 

“Any other secrets you care to share before I carry you to our bed?”

Her smile could not be contained and he felt the leap of both expectation and fear within. His breath held while she took one of his hands and moved it across the soft roundness that had lately appeared upon her stomach. An uncertain gaze that made his heart clench. Suddenly her restlessness and changing emotions making sense and confirming what he hardly dared to believe. His question a rather feeble croak that gave away his apprehensions.

“Yes?”

She only nodded but he could feel the excitement now pulsing through her entire body. Though she held it all contained awaiting his response. He loosed a long sigh and sought those guiding stars to gather his emotions. Her soft laugh bringing him back. A light stroke of fingers across his roughened cheeks.

“A dangerous man… and you’re terrified.”

A grunt the best reply he could manage, though she sensed a multitude of warring emotions behind it. She grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to her own; saw the mingling of fear and elation swirling within the dark depths.

“You are not your father, and on the morrow I will no longer be mother – but wife. And we will do better. Remember your promise?”

His eyes squeezed shut and he silently nodded. The warm wetness sliding between her fingers that rested upon dampening cheeks. The certainty of this miracle born of the two of them igniting a new resolve. He was a father in truth now. A fact that could not be escaped and he knew there was not one single part of him that desired to abandon the task; no matter the fear that also existed. His head dropped to her chest, hands molding across her stomach… wishing he could feel the flutter of the life within. The love already slowly expanding and filling him to the core of his being. Part of her, and part of him creating a second chance to change a poisoned legacy into a fruitful future born of love. The vision of her waiting for him in the river, expectant now imbibed with new meaning and threatening to burst his heart wide open for the grace bestowed on one so undeserving. He dropped kisses over the pale flesh above her nightgown, trailing up the slender column until finding willing lips that ignited a new fire down in his soul. 

“I’m a father.” The words wrapped in breathless elation. And then as quickly worry for the one he loved coiling about his gut. “But you are well? All is well? Should we see a…”

She laughed lightly and placed a finger upon his lips. “All is well James and I’ve already seen the village midwife. She is sworn to secrecy and the only other person who knows.”

“Do we tell the others – after the ceremony?”

Her hands smoothed over the soft cotton draped over the slight bump. “I won’t be able to hide it much longer I should think James.” She smoothed the hair above his brow. “I’m ready, but I’ll leave the decision to you.”

James already knew he would be overcome that day, when the vision of his bride came to fruition. And his league of damned souls; this collection of oddities and curiosities he had gathered – they could use a happy celebration.

For another battle was coming. The evils of the world – its corruption and greed – would surely spill upon these unspoiled shores. The fire rose within him as he moved his head further down her still slender form to rest above the place his child grew. Lips murmuring a promise only it could hear. But Lorna felt the strength flow through him in each taut muscle that strained beneath her fingers. Pushing uncertainty and fear aside and knew her Dragon was gearing to rise once more. To protect the ones he loved, and the freedom they’d all fought so hard to win. 

James Delaney was forming a new plan. One that he would follow through with the same steel grit and determination – but deadlier. Revenge no longer the goal that goaded him. She saw the new resolve as he once more sought her gaze, and pulling her to stand beside him, gazed out over the new world they had gained. All their hopes and dreams mirrored in every blade of glass, expanse of sea, and scaling height. Knowing it would be reflected in each face they would greet on the morrow. But mostly in the warm brown tones that held a lifetime of care and love – more than he ever dared dream.

_Do you want James Delaney to die?_

Once he was a man who had something worth dying for. Now he was a man who had everything to live for.

Only time would answer which was the deadlier foe. 

He breathed deeply and pulled her close; saw the same conviction in her eyes and knew the answer he didn’t have to ask. She would always stand beside him. His avenging angel. He still adopting foolish and devilish ways. And together they would push back the shadow that would creep across their promise land. They had an entire tribe, kin of his blood, who would fight by their side. 

James Keziah Delaney was neither ghost, nor dead. He had taken back his life. Once he fought for himself, now it would be all for them. Her, his child; his heart walking around outside his own body. Vulnerability and innocence a beacon to those seeking to destroy. He felt the power growing inside; grasped it, clung to it, and urged it to grow. This time he knew the way out of the cage; knew the way back to love and would not be lost again.

Taking her hand they left the stillness of the night to its dark occurrences. Enfolded in soft covers and one another as they moved together in the sweet and fiery soul sharing bonding that was their dance. Lovers loving long into the night bound by the dreams they share. The morning rays shining upon the rapture of their cabin bower. The happy ending always came at the last page. Fighting through every chapter, believing in the final act. All things flowing together to the inevitable conclusion. His fingers trailed over her flushed skin emboldened by soft moans, until they came to rest upon the chain of the necklace he gifted her. A token of changing tides and his need to possess her fully increased in pace and fervor. Her slender fingers grasping his marked flesh tight as she met him on the crashing waves that carried them forth. Emptying into one another over and over…

_But the sea was never full._

Still and deep it flowed ever on. The ending written in the deep trenches of his heart, where James would keep it safe until the final battle was won. This time the battle would come to him. His mouth trailed down her curves, lips caressing and murmuring until he reached the place the heart of his new legacy beat strong. No holding back, no turning back. The promise spoke aloud; a message for his unborn child… and to those who would threaten that life.

_I’m ready._

~ THE END ~


End file.
